


Signs

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Awkward Thorin, Kid!Fic, Multi, Teacher!Bilbo, cop!thorin, deaf!kili
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin was certain he had a problem.<br/>After all, the man looked like a bloody grocer- like some curly haired, bright eyed, bushy tailed cherub: totally vanilla and not sexy in any way at all.<br/>At least, that was what Thorin was trying to tell himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So I haven't been updating my stories as quickly (even though I've only got two of them at the moment), but that's because I was working on this monster for you all! I've been trying some different styles for writing, so instead of a bunch of chapters I've just done it all in one big block. Because it's a big block, editing was a bitch and I pretty much just skimmed it because I'm super lazy. Obviously, it's unbeta'd, so I expect there'll be lots of little errors that I missed, so feel free to point them out so I can fix them!

Thorin had one very big problem, and it came in the form of the short, curly haired and surprisingly attractive teacher that had taken over Kili’s class after Mister Elrond had retired.

Mister Elrond had been a nice, plain sort of man who Thorin held no sexual desire for at all. It was good. And then he just _had_ to go and retire, didn’t he? Thorin always had the worst luck.

And this one particular problem was causing a string of other problems in his life as well. For example, the rapturous ecstasies the boys were in every time they spotted Mister Baggins in the supermarket or at a school fete. They couldn’t get anything done until the boys spoke to him. He was all Kili ever talked about anymore. Well, if Kili _could_ talk, that is.

Right now he was watching his nephew adamantly sign in Bilbo’s direction, trying desperately to ignore the pleased little smile that had curved around Bilbo’s lips during the conversation.

He looked ridiculous with his button down shirt and blazer and crooked smile and chaotic hair and-and _sweet Mother Mary and Joseph_ , Thorin wanted to _fuck him_ into _the ground_.

This, of course, was another one of his problems that stemmed from his original dilemma.

Ridiculous auburn hair, big, bright eyes that could produce a myriad of cheesy poetry and a mouth that Thorin could just imagine doing a dozen different things to.

Many, many things- things of an obscene, perverted, virile nature-

Certain things that were not appropriate, nor were they playground friendly. His line of thought could hardly be considered G-rated, could it?

He tried to rein himself in before his imagination went overtime in trying to picture all the ideas that had been swarming in the back of his mind these past few weeks: all the ways he could-

No. _No_. Those were fantasies he could entertain later. _Much_ later. After the sun had long been set and the boys were sleeping soundly and Thorin had some more than welcome alone-time in his own bedroom.

At this moment, however, he could not afford to indulge in fantasies about his nephew’s newest teacher. Although that was easier said than done… especially when he was signing to Kili with those God damned hands; thin and long and capable looking-

Thorin was certain he had a problem.

After all, the man looked like a bloody _grocer_ \- like some curly haired, bright eyed, bushy tailed _cherub_ : totally vanilla and not sexy in any way at all.

At least, that was what Thorin was trying to tell himself. For some reason there was just something so enthralling about him. Something that tugged at Thorin’s chest… and, okay, maybe something a little bit lower, too, but that wasn’t the point.

To be honest, the kids weren’t the only ones in rapturous ecstasies while happening upon Bilbo in the most mundane of places.

Because the worst part of it was, he actually _liked_ the guy. Not just lusted after, but genuinely _liked_. Thorin liked his stupid smile and genuine affection for the boys and he even liked those stupid jackets he wore. And fondness wasn’t something Thorin was used to feeling for anyone but his nephews and the occasional close friend. He didn’t really _do_ emotions. He’d never been able to.

He cleared his throat awkwardly now, glancing pointedly at his watch. Kili hadn’t heard him, of course, but Bilbo certainly had, and a small flush rose up on his cheeks and the points of his ears.

Thorin wondered if he’d gain the same response if he bit at the pale skin at Bilbo’s neck.

“Sorry, sorry,” he rambled now, signing the words to Kili as he spoke. “I’d better get going, and I think you need to as well.”

Kili pouted, looking unhappy, and turned his gaze onto his uncle, but Thorin wasn’t having any of that. Any longer and he’d be forced to explain why he’d popped a boner whilst watching Mister Baggins’ mouth. And _that_ wasn’t really the kind of thing he needed to deal with right now.

Especially when you consider the fact that he’s a God damned officer of the law. So he made best of the situation and escaped before things got awkward, smothering a groan when he realised at the checkout that Fili had managed to sneak four packs of pop tarts and a bunch of Red Bulls into the cart while he wasn’t looking.

He really needed to pay attention more. He could almost _feel_ Dis looking down at laughing at him.

**

Thorin didn’t usually get Sunday’s off, he wasn’t blessed with nine to five, Monday to Friday shifts, but he did, however, have the day off this week, which would be nice if his nephews hadn’t decided to punch yet another hole in the wall and break most of the dishes in their excitement.

So to placate them a little he allowed them to drag him out of the house, packed lunch in tow, and off to the nearest hiking trail where they could wander over fallen trees and roots and sticks and rocks and yell and holler all they wanted without the neighbours complaining about the noise.

Well, Kili didn’t really holler, but his excitable noises were far louder than he intended them to be, mainly because he couldn’t hear them himself. Both the boys were, in fact, cooing excitedly over a centipede they’d found in the mud (Fili shrieking excitedly and Kili making strange random ‘ah’ sounds in return) when Thorin overheard an arguing couple.

“I’m telling you, we’re lost,” said the first voice, familiar to Thorin’s ear.

“We are _not_ lost.” The second voice hotly returned. “I know my way ‘round these woods and I know where we are.”

“Then where are we?” Thorin could almost _hear_ the first person place their hands on their hips judgementally as they spoke. “Hmm?”

“Nearly there,” was the reply the second voice came with, and Thorin saw the two of them break out of the trees and onto the track again. “Aha!” The man cried triumphantly. “See?” Thorin vaguely recognised him as Ori Ri, the man Dwalin had been seeing off and on these past few months.

The second man stepped onto the path, pulling twigs from familiar tawny locks. “You got lucky.” Thorin heard him mutter.

And apparently Thorin wasn’t the only one who’d heard him.

“Mister Baggins!” Fili jumped to his feet, Kili following closely behind, mud caked around the knees of their pants and- God that was going to take forever for Thorin to get out.

Bilbo’s face cleared instantly of its irritation and he gave the boys a wide smile, moving forward to greet them, brushing past his friend. Very clearly this was not the first time he’d gotten them both lost. “Look at you two! Digging through the dirt like a pair of botanists.”

Fili seemed confused, but continued grinning regardless. Kili signed enthusiastically at Bilbo about their discovery of a centipede.

“Sounds fun…” Bilbo said slowly, giving Thorin an appraising look. He must have looked as exhausted as he felt, because Bilbo was very clearly smothering a laugh, giving him his best pitying look.

Thorin just managed a shrug, wondering why the world seemed to hate him.

“Who’s your friend?” Fili cut in before either of them could begin a conversation.

“We were _trying_ to go for a hike. But _Ori_ here has no directional sense and decided to lose our compass.”

Ori just pouted. “I’ve been here plenty of times before. I know where I’m going,” he insisted, looking defensive. “And I got us back on the path, didn’t I?”

“After an hour and a half of aimless wandering? Yeah,” Bilbo just sighed. “No matter. We’ll just keep going on and stay _on the pathway_ this time. Luckily I remembered water.” He dangled the bottle in front of him as proof before popping open the lid and taking a few gulps. Thorin (albeit, a little belatedly) made a point of looking pointedly away from him so he didn’t have to look at his throat as he drank. There was something oddly arousing about it that he refused to think about.

“Are you going up?” Fili wanted to know. “You can come with us. We bought food and everything for when we’re at the top!”

Bilbo hesitated, glancing at Ori, and then at Thorin. “Well, we wouldn’t mind the company... if you don’t mind, of course.”

“We bought cake!” Ori chimed in, gesturing to his backpack. Because cake was the obvious snack to bring after a long hike.

“Cake!” Fili cried, signing eagerly at Kili, who looked just as rapturous about the idea of sweets.

Thorin sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to come now, or else they’ll be sulking all day about not getting any cake.”

Bilbo’s smile was wide and warm, and made Thorin feel like some Harlequin Heroin with the way his stomach flipped.

“Great!” Ori chirped, moving forward. “I know exactly where to go-”

“No!” Bilbo called out now, “No leading _whatsoever_. I want to get out of here by midnight at the very least.”

Ori rolled his eyes, but fell backwards once more and allowed Thorin to take the lead.

It didn’t take them long to reach the top, and the boys looked at the view for about ten second before lunging for the bags and rummaging through for the food.

Bilbo sat nearby, watching them with an amused little smile while Ori fumbled beside him, dishing out the cake he’d brought along with him, all the while babbling on worse than Bilbo did.

The string of words never really stopped, unless to be filled by Bilbo’s replies and Thorin found that the indiscernible jabber from the both of them was strangely hypnotising.  

He hadn’t realised people could actually speak for such a long period of time without pausing to breathe.

But they had to eat at some point, though that didn’t stop Kili, as soon as he found out Ori’s eldest brother ran the nature reserve he began grilling Ori about everything he knew on the subject of the forest, Fili translating for him.

Ori seemed to find it amusing, if somewhat flustering, so Thorin decided he wouldn’t intervene just yet. But Kili wasn’t one to realise when enough was enough, and tended to exhaust his teachers.

In fact, on his second day here, Kili had kept Bilbo in class after school for more than an hour asking numerous questions about clouds. Thorin had to all but drag him out into the parking lot, which obviously made him look like a responsible, safe carer for the boys to be around.

But that wasn’t the point. The point _was_ that Kili was far too nosy for his own good, and tended to annoy people. Although, upon further consideration, he got that from his older brother, who got that from his parents, who’d gotten that from their parents, who were also, in fact, Thorin’s parents as well. To be honest, the whole Durin family was far too nosy for their own good.

Why else would Thorin become a police officer?

The food was devoured quite quickly and thoroughly enjoyed before Thorin wheedled his begrudging nephews into helping pack up everything so they could get back down to the car.

They made their way back down in record time, the boys eager to get home and eat dinner (even though they’d devoured almost an entire cake and several sandwiches by themselves). Thorin packed them both into the backseat. Ori was desperately trying to unlock his car, but for some reason didn’t know how to twist his keys.

“New car,” came a voice from beside him, and he turned to find Bilbo. “That was nice.” He told Thorin now, still smiling. “I enjoyed it. Thanks for letting us crash your picnic.” He glanced over his shoulder before leaning in, as if about to whisper a secret. “I think Ori liked it, too, if only for the sandwiches.”

Thorin managed a small chuckle. “Well, we’d better get going.” He nodded to the boys in the car, all but asleep after their long day of psychical exertion and badgering adults with unnecessary questions.

“Yeah, yeah, get them home, by all means. Don’t want them to be too overtired tomorrow.” Bilbo faked a shudder. “Kili has a habit of rubbing off on the other students so I might have some sort of mutiny on my hands.” He shuffled backwards a little. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

Thorin felt like he should say something, anything, to prolong the moment just a little longer. But Fili was absently kicking his brother in his sleep, and Ori was saying they should get going, and Bilbo was checking his watch and making a face, so Thorin just simply said goodbye and got in the car and drove off.

“Do you like Mister Bilbo, Uncle Thorin?” Fili asked through a yawn, feet hitting the back of the driver’s seat when he swung them.

“Yes, Fili, I do.”

“So do I,” he declared.

Thorin smiled. “I know you do.”

“Do you think Mister Bilbo will come to my birthday party?”

“Your birthday isn’t for months.”

He could see Fili shrugged in the rear vision mirror. “It’s never too early to start planning.”

Thorin just rolled his eyes.

**

Thorin was on patrol a few weeks later when he was called in on a possible 647 on Wembley & Main. “May have something to do with soliciting,” Tauriel added after a slight pause.

“Alright,” Thorin sighed, “I’m on it.”

He was only two streets away, so he was there in little more than a minute anyway, his headlights flashing over a familiar looking car and a scantily dressed man leaning through the window appearing to have an argument with whoever was inside.

The man stiffened when Thorin got out of the car.

“There a problem here?” Thorin asked, making his way over.

“No, sir,” came the immediate reply from the man.

“Bit late for you to be wandering around this part of town,” Thorin mused, coming to a stop a few metres away. “I’m going to need your name and some form of ID.”

“I’m just talking to my friend here.” The man gestured at the car, ignoring Thorin’s request for his name.

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Sure you are.”

“Ah, no, really, _he is_ ,” a familiar voice piped up before sticking his head out the driver’s window and smiling a little sheepishly. “Hi.”

No fucking way. “ _Bilbo_?”

“Yeah. Hi,” he said again. “Look, I can explain. This is totally not what it looks like.”

 _It bloody better not be._ “Then what is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This is Bofur. I’m trying to get him home before he… does something he regrets.”

Bofur just rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “I’ve got to make money somehow,” was his snide reply.

Bilbo sighed, looking more than a little resigned. “Please come with me, Bofur. You can stay at my place as long as you want, you know that.”

“I don’t _need help_.” Bofur insisted.

Thorin cleared his throat, breaking up the argument before it even started. “Nevertheless, you just admitted to soliciting and I’m going to have to take you in for the night.” Bilbo opened his mouth to protest. “And you ought to come in and give a statement, too.” Thorin cut in before he got a chance to speak. “You know where to go?”

“Kind of,” Bilbo sighed again. “I’ll just follow your cruiser.”

“Good,” he gestured for Bofur to come along. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. And the hard way involves a measure of violence that I haven’t really had enough caffeine for.” Bofur cracked a bit of a smile at that.

Bofur was content enough to sit in the back quietly for the ride there, and went into the station without much of a fuss.

Bilbo behaved much the same, although there was a significant amount of pacing and worrying away at his thumbnail. “Is he in much trouble?” Were the first things out of his mouth once he caught sight of Thorin.

“Depends.” He gestured for Bilbo to follow him. “Take a seat.” He said once they were in one of the other rooms. Bilbo obeyed instantly. “How do you two know each other?”

“Well, I think what you mean is ‘was I trying to get my end away with him’, and the answer is a very loud and astounding _no_.”

Thorin felt a small twinge of relief at that, but he kept his face stony and stoic. “Then what were you doing?”

“He really is my friend,” Bilbo insisted now. “Well, cousin as well, but I’ve never really spent that much time with that side of the family, so the word friend is a much more apt representation of our relationship.”

“And?” Thorin prompted, wondering if he’d get to the point in the next five minutes.

“Right. So, things have been bad for him for a while. I told him he should move here with me, you know, to get a start on something… better. I didn’t even know he was out tonight until I got a call from Ori at the service station down the road, he’d seen him wander about and… I thought I’d get him to come home before he did anything stupid.” He paused, taking a breath. “So is he?”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Is he, what?”

“In a lot of trouble,” Bilbo clarified.

“Ah, well, not as much as he could have been in. No one had picked him up before I showed up, so he’ll spend the night with us and we’ll release him in the morning.”

“Oh,” relief washed over his face and he slumped back into his chair, “thank God.”

“Maybe next time, though, you could just call us and we’ll handle it.”

“Bofur’s never really liked the police…” Bilbo insisted, “well, I mean, obviously. It’s nothing personal, of course.”

“Still,” Thorin insisted, “next time you could get yourself into some serious trouble.”

Bilbo’s lips pursed. “Yes, I suppose.”

“And we’ll talk to him,” Thorin said suddenly, the urge to cheer Bilbo up more than a little overwhelming. “See if we can’t help him.”

“Thank you.”

Thorin started to feel a little flustered. When had they turned the damn heating up? “Well, it’s my job.”

Bilbo smiled now, properly. “Thank you anyway. So, uh… I’m okay to go, right?” He gestured vaguely to the door behind him, slowly moving to get on his feet.

“Yeah, go ahead. No one will be arresting you tonight.”

“Well, I hope no one arrests me ever, but I can work with that.” Bilbo gave him a grin that left Thorin wondering what he’d look like in handcuffs. “Alright, I’ll just… ah!”  His eyes widened comically, as if he’d just remembered something. He spun back on his heel so he was facing Thorin fully.

“Also, I suppose while I’m here I could ask about coming over after school one afternoon? Kili’s been asking me for the past few weeks to come over and read to him. I mean, if it’s okay with you, of course. I wouldn’t just show up on some random day and waltz into your house-”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly, cursing himself mentally for sounding so eager. “Monday’s, Tuesdays and Thursdays are no good, but any other time is fine. I can... get back to you about it.”

Bilbo nodded. “Alright then,” he gave an awkward wave and then was gone, leaving Thorin to mutter to himself about behaving like a horny teenager.

**

Bofur was released in the morning after being set up with a rehabilitation counsellor. He seemed surprisingly okay with it, or at least, that’s what Tauriel had told him before he dropped the kids off at school. He didn’t see Bilbo out the front of the school. Not that he was looking for him or anything, and ignored the slight disappointment he felt curl in his gut before driving to work.

“You look like shit.” Was the greeting he got the moment he set foot in the station.

“Hello to you too, Dwalin.” He slid off his coat and dumped it on his desk. “Nice to see you’ve retained your charm and charisma over your holiday.”

“Sure have,” Dwalin stretched in his seat, yawning. “Should have asked for more time off so I didn’t have to come in and see your ugly mug every day.”

“I could say the same about you.” Thorin found himself muttering as he flicked through the papers on his desk, waiting for his computer to boot up.

Dwalin let out an amused snort. “Coffee?” He offered.

“Yeah, sure, thanks.”

He paid no attention as Dwalin left, and barely registered his presence when he entered the room again, setting a mug down in front of him.

“So,” he said casually, which should have alerted Thorin straight away that something was up, “busy night last night?”

Thorin glanced up to see Dwalin wearing that stupid smug smile of his. After fifteen years of knowing the man he was more than acquainted with it. “Yeah,” he replied simply, shrugging. “What of it?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Dwalin replied, leaning against the table. “Tauriel just told me you had to bring in that teacher you’ve been pinin’ over.”

“I am not _pining_.” Was his almost immediate reply, and the smug smile on Dwalin’s face only twisted more in amusement.

“Sure you’re not.” He put his hands up in a gesture of peace. “So, what’d he do?”

“He was hanging out with a known prostitute.”

Dwalin let out a loud snorting laugh. “Wow. You sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?”

“The man is his cousin,” he said now, feeling the unexplainable need to clarify. “He was trying to get him off the street before he got himself in trouble.”

“Ah,” a pause. “So he’s a nice guy.”

Thorin just shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“And totally not a wanker,” Dwalin continued.

“No, not really.”

“So… opposites really do attract, then?”

“Dwalin,” Thorin growled a warning.

Dwalin just laughed again. “Alright, alright, I’ll get back to work and leave to pine away like a heroine in a Bronte novel.”

“I am not _pining_ ,” he insisted once more to Dwalin’s back.

“Aye, you are _totally_ pinin’.” He called over his shoulder.

Thorin just grumbled into his terrible tasting coffee.  His day got worse from then on.

He blamed the coffee, of course.

He was so pissy that by the time he finished work, he’d decided that instead of making dinner, he’d just buy something for them all to eat tonight. So when he arrived home he piled through the door with pizza in tow, somewhat proud at his ability to balance the leaning tower of pizza in his hands.

“I’m home!” He called to nothing in particular, knowing that if the boys were here, they’d be upstairs, and only one of them could hear his entry anyway.

Fili poked his head through the railing in the stairs.

“Is it okay is Mister Baggins comes over and reads to us Wednesday?” He asked, watching Thorin carefully, as if wanting to measure his reaction.

Thorin paused. “Does he know he’s coming over tomorrow night,” he began, “or is this one of those things when you just tell him last minute?”

Fili was infamous for last-minute updates. The most recent of these had been Christmas Eve when he casually reminded Thorin that they had yet to acquire either a turkey or a ham and that both he and his brother had raided the kitchen the day before and eaten all the food they’d had left in a sickening binge. Of course Thorin ended up having to fight his way through something similar to an Arthurian battle in the Supermarket with O Fortuna playing in the background only to come home with a pitiful sized ham and a packet of Cheetos.

Not exactly the awesome Christmas Dinner one sees in the movies, but at least it wasn’t stale cookies from the back of the cupboard.

“I can ask him.” Fili insisted, moving down a few stairs so Thorin could see his scowl properly. It was a Durin trademark, that scowl. “I’ll do it tomorrow at school, I will. I'll even tell him to come over next Wednesday instead of this Wednesday to give him warning!”

Thorin made a face, setting the pizza’s down on the coffee table. “How about I call him myself and sort it out. Okay?”

Fili seemed slightly appeased by that idea. “Alright, fine. But you have to make an awesome dinner for him and not just spaghetti out of a tin.” He pointed at his Uncle accusingly.

“Are you insulting my taste in food?” Thorin asked, wondering when Fili became so… _sassy_.

“I’m not insulting your taste in food; I’m denying its existence-”

“Has Uncle Frerin been showing you Game of Thrones again?” He demanded, cutting in, but Fili continued on.

“You have no taste in food- in fact; the food you eat doesn’t even _have_ a taste.”

“Alright, alright,” he put his hands up, wanting to put a stop to the tirade. “I’ll cook something. Something that has taste and is completely edible.”

“Something _nice_ ,” Fili insisted.

Thorin just sighed and made his way to the kitchen to make the first decent cup of coffee he’d had all day. “He may not even stay for dinner, you know,” he called over his shoulder.

“It’s still the polite thing to do.” Fili called back, traipsing back up the stairs to get his brother so they could eat.

Thorin snorted. “Smart ass.” It seemed Fili was gaining one or two new Durin traits to go with his customary scowl.

**

 _Do we have to go?_ Kili signed morosely, sitting on Thorin’s bed as he slipped on his jacket.

_Do you not want to go?_

Kili just shrugged. _The other parents all look at me funny._

Thorin sighed. _You don’t need to worry about that. People act oddly to what they don’t understand._

 _It’s not that hard to understand_. Kili signed back, looking frustrated. _I’m deaf, not dumb._

Thorin felt his lips twitch into a smile. _I know that. Your brother knows that, so do your friends. And Mister Baggins know it, too. Everyone else is just…_

 _Putty filler?_ Kili suggested.

 _What do you mean?_ He signed in reply, frowning.

 _You know,_ Kili told him, _putty filler. Just there to fill in the blank spaces._

Thorin laughed at the terminology. _That’s a good name for it._

 _Mister Baggins thought so._ Kili agreed.

_You know, he’ll be there tonight._

Kili gave him the hint of a smile. _I know._

_Now come on. Your brother’s waiting._

Teacher-Parent nights were, of course, always a nightmare. Every year Thorin dreaded the date, fretting that he’d go in and the teachers would tell him that he was doing a terrible job at raising the two boys and that he’d screwed everything up.

Thankfully, no such thing had happened, though. Both the boys were doing well, despite Kili’s ‘affliction’, in the words of one of the teacher aides at last year’s meeting. Thorin had almost bit the man’s head off at his audacity, but a reassuring hand on his arm (Fili’s) had made him stop. Everyone was a God damned expert.

But this particular evening was better than most. Fili’s teacher, Mister Gandalf, was kind and complimentary, speaking in raptures about Fili’s vocabulary and maturity. Thorin had felt a swell of pride at that, and decided on a whim that he’d get more Ice Cream with the groceries this week to reward him. Fili had beamed when Thorin told him as much after the conversation.

And then he’d gotten to spend almost half an hour with Bilbo, which he had to admit was rather nice.

“Kili’s doing really well with all the other students, as well.” Was what Bilbo was rambling on about now. “They’ve loved getting to learn some sign language and they love that they can communicate.” He laughed affectionately, making something tug in Thorin’s abdomen in return. “They seem to like the idea of not many other people knowing what they’re talking about. Like some secret code or something.”

Thorin managed a soft chuckle. “Kili has been telling me about his new friends.” He glanced over the other side of the room, where Kili was now playing with one such friend. “I’m glad he’s been able to do that, they were worried for a while, after his mother died. He was so antisocial.”

“Kids are very flexible.” Bilbo replied simply. “You’ll be surprised what they can bounce back from. And you’re doing a wonderful job with them, from what I can see.”

“I am?” He felt his face heat up.

“Oh, yes. All the teachers agree, and even some of the parents, I believe. You’re kind of known as a Superdad around here.”

He felt infinitely embarrassed, and Bilbo could obviously tell.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I do that sometimes; you know, ramble on and make people uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” Thorin waved a hand at him, “It’s… nice.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.” Desperate to change the subject, before he leaned over and kissed that stupid smile right off Bilbo’s face, he spoke once more. “How’s your cousin?”

“Oh, Bofur?” Bilbo’s smile only got bigger. “Great, actually. He’s really enjoying working with the counsellor, says it’s nice to talk to someone who’s been through what he’s been through. Though between you and me,” he leant in, as if revealing a secret, “I think he might have a little crush.”

“Nori is quite popular.” Thorin found himself saying. “I’ve heard a great deal of cheesy puns about him ‘stealing people’s hearts’.” Nori had been a robber up until a few years ago, when he had been offered a job as a counsellor and an opportunity to get his life back in check.

They were silent for a few moments before Bilbo clapped his hand to his thigh and gave Thorin a grin. “Right. Well, we’ve ran over time, and I’d better get to the other parents or else they’ll think I’m picking favourites.” He winked, and although Thorin was sure it was nothing more than a friendly gesture, he couldn’t help the little flip his stomach gave.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He got out of the ridiculously little seat and turned to his nephews. “Come on, Fili; get your brother- we’re done here now.”

 _Did you ask him, dad?_ Kili sighed up at him.

“Ask me what?” Bilbo wondered, obviously confused. Thorin had been so caught up in their conversation that he’d forgotten completely.

“Ah,” he smiled a little sheepishly, “I’d forgotten completely. Fili and Kili were wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming over next Wednesday and reading to them." Next Wednesday was certainly better than this Wednesday and though Fili would complain it was ages away, it was better to give Bilbo some warning about the whole thing, "If you don’t want to, of course, you don’t have to-”

“Oh, no,” Bilbo cut in now, smiling wide again. “Of course I want to come over and read. How could I say no to faces like this?” He pinched Fili and Kili’s cheeks. Which they allowed. In fact, they had smiles on their faces. Last time someone had tried to pinch their cheeks; they’d almost got their fingers bitten off. “I’ll just drop by after school then, shall I?”

Thorin nodded, not sure what else to do. “Alright. See you then.”

Bilbo waved them off before ushering a new set of parents to those pesky tiny seats.

**

The rest of the weekend passed without much incident, Thorin and Dwalin arrested a man for streaking through a football match, and a woman during a domestic disturbance who insisted her neighbour’s dog was possessed by a demon.

Sadly that wasn’t even the strangest thing he’d ever heard from someone while working this job.

The weekend rolled by quickly. Thorin took the boys to the park and then to the bookstore in town, pointedly dragging a giggling Fili away from the sex books.

He took Monday afternoon off so he could see Fili in his first lacrosse game. Kili had sat beside him the entire time with a furrow in his brow, seemingly perplexed by why they were all running about with sticks and smacking each other.

 _I like baseball better_. Was all he said to Thorin that afternoon.

Thorin had to agree.

Soon enough, it was Wednesday, and all thoughts of the boy’s prearranged play date with Bilbo had slipped from his mind until Fili had reminded him that tinned spaghetti was not on the menu. He cursed, realising he should have gone food shopping two days ago, and ended up having to borrow food from his neighbour Balin. Thankfully, of course, he was Dwalin’s older brother and a family friend and was more than welcome to help him out.

So instead of relaxing at six and watching television like he’d like to be doing right now, he was in the kitchen wrestling slippery cuts of fish into flour and breaking his rather pathetic excuse for a potato peeler in his attempts to make a reasonable meal.

It wasn’t long after he’d finally managed to put the vegetables on with a sense of triumph when there was a quick, sharp knock at the door.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he pulled open the door and came face-to-face with Bilbo, but him laughing madly once catching sight of Thorin was not actually what he’d imagined.

He looked down at himself, wondering if maybe he’d forgotten something important, like pants. Then he remembered he’d been cooking.

“You look a mess.” Bilbo told him, biting back the remainders of his laughter as he entered. Thorin wondered if there was any way he could quickly brush himself down without betraying his cool exterior. So he just settled for ignoring the mess.

“I was working on dinner, actually.”

“Well,” Bilbo waved a hand at him, obviously bemused, “it must be good if you’re willing to look like you wrangled with an alligator for it.”

“Yeah…” Ladies and Gentlemen, Thorin Durin: raconteur and conversationalist.

Bilbo clapped his hands together, obviously trying to alleviate the awkward silence that had suddenly occurred. “So, I’ll just go into the living room, shall I?” He wandered forward a bit, slipping off his jacket. Thorin followed him to the couch, watching him set his bag down at the end and get comfortable.

If this were one of those ridiculous Rom-Coms that his sister had enjoyed watching all the time, Thorin would have said something charming, or witty. Something that would, no doubt, sweep Bilbo off his feet like something out of a crappy Lifetime movie. But this wasn’t a Rom-Com and Thorin was socially stunted so instead he shuffled a little, looking at his feet, before making excuses to get back into the kitchen and finish dinner.

He could imagine Dis’ derisive snort as he re-entered the kitchen to check on the battered fish. _Smooth, Thorin_.

He could hear the boys run down the stairs and greet Bilbo, settling down so he could read the book he’d bought over. It was nice, hearing the murmurs from the other room, the comfortable atmosphere. It had been a while since there was anyone in Fili and Kili’s life but himself. He knew they were more than a little attached to Bilbo.

When he came back to the living room he found Fili and Kili curled up about Bilbo’s legs, watching while he signed. It was sweet.

He was more than a little lament to break it up.

“Dinners ready.” He said from the other side of the room, catching their attention. Bilbo smiled and set the book down.

Both boys objected immediately, whining about how their story wasn’t finished yet.

“The book will be there when you’re done with dinner,” he said simply, watching in amusement as they both dragged their feet into the kitchen, as if dinner was some sort of punishment. “You hungry?” Thorin asked, still standing in the doorway.

“Oh, well, I don’t want to cause a fuss…”

“No, really,” he swept a hand in the direction of the food, “there’s plenty.”

“Well,” Bilbo paused briefly, getting to his feet and fiddling with his shirt, “I _could_ eat…”

Bilbo took a seat beside Fili at the table and Thorin tried not to think about how much he looked like he belonged there. Creepy thoughts were not allowed at the dinner table.

“Sorry,” Thorin found himself apologising as he dished dinner up, “it’s not much…”

Bilbo snorted. “Are you kidding me?” He asked. “This is great. It’s not often I get a meal homemade for me. Last few days I’ve been so tired that I’ve just been living off of pot noodles.”

Fili snorted through a mouthful of food.

Other than that there was little to no conversation while they ate, and afterwards, Bilbo insisted on helping Thorin clean up the dirty dishes.

He wanted to insist that he could do it on his own, but it was… nice.

Fili and Kili seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

 _You could stay a little longer, you know._ Thorin saw Kili sign tentatively when they finished.

Bilbo hesitated, obviously unsure how to reply.

But Fili cut in before he could. “Uncle Thorin makes the best hot chocolate ever!” He cooed, with Kili rapidly signing an agreement.

“Well…” Bilbo hesitated, glancing at Thorin somewhat sheepishly, “I could stay for a little longer- if you don’t mind?” He cringed at the question as he asked it, like it would bother Thorin.

Like he’d say no.

Like he wouldn’t do it just because Bilbo asked.

Like he wasn’t looking for an excuse to get him to stay longer anyway.

“Sure,” he managed to get out, though it sounded gruff and slightly pained. Not exactly the cool and calm composure he’d been aiming for. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Sure, no problem. Besides, I don’t think the boys would let you leave before finishing that story.”

Bilbo’s replying smile radiated warmth.

So they all piled into the living room, taking a seat at the table and finishing their story while Thorin get cups and milk and marshmallows and set about making the ‘best hot chocolate ever’.

Once finished, he took the cups to the living room and set them down on the coffee table, waiting patiently as they took their first sips. Kili nodded eagerly, signing ‘ _Good! Good!_ ’ and Fili murmured his appreciation, too engrossed in trying to drink as much of it as he could.

Bilbo took a tentative sip, obviously hoping not to burn his tongue, and his eyes lit up as he liked the remainder off his lips. “It’s great!”

He relaxed instantly, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He made a face, was he really worried about whether Bilbo liked his hot chocolate or not? He coughed, trying to ignore the happy moan the other man made while enjoying his drink.

“So, I was going to ask,” Bilbo began now, hands wrapping around the mug. “A few of us are planning a school outing- some of the kids want to go to the lake for a little while, and the Principal said it was fine, and well… we need chaperones, and I wouldn’t pressure you into doing it, of course, but I thought I’d just query on it while I was here.”

“Yes, Uncle Thorin!” Fili cried, practically vibrating with excitement in his seat. “You can come, too! The car has lots of seats so we can bring my friends, as well.” Kili looked slightly confused, and as Fili signed, explaining the conversation to him, Thorin turned to Bilbo.

“I suppose I can get a day from work, I’ll have to be a week or so ahead of time, though.”

“Great! Thank you so much, none of the other parents really wanted to deal with all the kids. It was just going to be Oin, the school nurse and I, and that’s a lot of kids for two people-” _Christ, he really did babble on a bit, didn’t he?_ “-and God forbid something happen and only two of us be there. I mean, obviously Oin is prepared for that sort of thing, and I have first aid training, though it will be nice for a bit of extra backup.”

“Well, uh, no problem,” he replied, finding himself grinning stupidly at Bilbo’s excitement.

Yeah, it was all downhill from here.

**

Chaperoning wasn’t too bad. He was used to children screaming and fighting, so he could handle that. In fact, he thought himself rather a master of it, if he were being honest.

For someone who couldn’t actually speak Kili made an awful lot of noise. And Fili was just… well, Fili.

And although he was god at dealing with loud and annoying children, thankfully they arrived at the lake sooner rather than later before he succumbed to madness.

The children were rounded up and warned about staying away from the lake, even though it was early January and still completely iced over. He tended to agree with the ster talking-to, however. He didn’t need the day to end with him diving into the freezing lake because some kid dared some other kid to run out onto the thin ice. Because that would really fuck up his mood.

He stayed mainly near the cars, watching Oin and Bilbo desperately try to keep all the children in one place. It was nice to see Fili and Kili interacting with other kids, too. Thorin had worried about that, about Kili not making friends his age because they didn’t know how to sign, but most of the kids in his class knew a thing or two about it, thanks to Bilbo’s insistence that they all learn.

In fact, the whole outing had been going quite well, which should have been the first thing to set alarm bells off in his head, because all of a sudden, things went to shit pretty fast.

Thorin wasn’t really sure how it happened. One second the children were laughing and screaming and throwing snowballs at each other (and, unfortunately, Thorin), and the next thing he knew, Bilbo was calling for one of the kids to not go so far out, because of the ice- and of course the ground had to crack at that very moment, both Bilbo and the boy disappearing so quickly it was almost comical. Y’know, apart from all the yelling and screaming and the possibility of two people drowning to death in ice cold water.

But they had bobbed back up to the surface quickly, and Bilbo had shoved the boy onto the ice as before scrambling to climb out himself as Thorin reached the gaping hole.  

Bilbo’s icy fingers grasped at his forearm the moment he reached out, and he allowed himself to be dragged from the cold water and across the snow and ice.

“Well, th-that was interesting,” he muttered as Thorin dragged him to his feet. His lips were turning blue.

He shed his jacket without hesitation, wrapping it around Bilbo’s small frame, trying to get him as warm as possible.

“Are you okay?”

Bilbo managed a short nod in reply. “C-Could use some hot ch-chocolate, though.” He joked, shivering violently. “O-or maybe something a little st-stronger, if I’m b-being honest.”

Thorin thought the both of them could use a stiff drink, and he tugged Bilbo a bit farther away from the lake.

Oin was already with the child, wrapping him up in his massive jumper, telling the other children to hug him to keep him warm enough.

“M-M-My hero,” Bilbo managed to chatter through his clacking teeth, icy water falling from his unruly curls (now flat from the weight of the water) catching in his eyelashes and dripping down his ruddy cheeks. Thorin realised, both elatedly and worriedly, that a simple jacket wasn’t going to be enough to warm Bilbo. So without thinking about it, he grabbed hold of the smaller mans shoulders and pulled him into his chest, enveloping him in what he hoped was a warm hug.

“Oh.” Bilbo pressed his ace against his chest, nuzzling. “That’s certainly warmer.” But his teeth were still chattering. Thorin rubbed his hands down Bilbo’s back, telling himself the friction would help warm him, though he had to admit (at least to himself) that there was a little bit of copping a feel there.

He had to remind himself that Bilbo was freezing and had probably very nearly drowned. This was not a romantic situation at all.

But try telling Thorin’s dick that.

“You should talk,” he said now, ignoring the cold that had begun to cling itself to his body now that Bilbo was dripping all over him. “It’ll be a good distraction.” For the both of them. This was not the ideal time for his body to decide to announce to Bilbo that it felt infinitely attracted to him and was standing to attention in more ways than one.

So Bilbo rambled on, talking about his home, where he could curl up by the fire and read a book or just sleep (because apparently he was lazy like that), and he chattered about his plates and cutlery, and- really, objectively Thorin had to admit he was an odd thing. Fretting over doilies and dishes while he was freezing to death. But then again, Thorin wasn’t exactly feeling objective right now, with Bilbo this close to him and his smell now rubbed off all over his own body.

And Bilbo’s lips were still a little blue and Thorin had a hard time wondering if he could warm them by kissing him.

Thankfully, Kili appeared before he did something monumentally stupid.

 _Okay?_ He looked concerned and distressed and his eyes flickered over Bilbo in his currently freezing state.

 _He’s fine_ , Thorin managed to work his hands around Bilbo’s body. _He just needs to be warmed._

Kili only hesitated for a moment, before moving forward and wrapping his arms around Bilbo’s legs and giving Thorin a cautious look, as if to ask if his actions were alright.

Thorin smiled, and Bilbo laughed as Fili joined in.

“I’m in the middle of a Durin sandwich.” He murmured into Thorin’s shoulder. “It’s quite nice, actually.”

It was nice. Very nice.

And he knew there was a very big difference between wanting something and actually having it. But this wasn’t like that. And if anyone would know, he would. Thorin had had more than enough of _those_ kinds of relationships before to know the warning signs. This was different.

Not that _that_ mattered. Jesus, now was not the time to have a dating crisis about someone he’d probably never get a _chance_ to date. And now he sounded like some lovesick fool, and well… he was just going to push it to the back of his head and _ignore_ it. At least for the rest of the day.

Now was not the time. Though, Thorin’s body loved reminding him of these sort of things at the most inconvenient time possible. Like, for instance, after a near-death experience of sorts as they both freeze in the cold while children run and scream around them.

Yeah, definitely not the right time.

**

“Uncle Thorin?” Fili sounded tentative when he approached him in the kitchen a few weeks after the lake incident.

It was far too early for morning conversations, so Thorin could not be blamed for only making out a vague mumble in reply. “Mmm?”

“You like Bilbo, don’t you?”

He almost choked on his morning coffee. “Well, uh, yes, Fili,” he managed, still spluttering, “he’s very nice.”

“Yeah,” Fili heaved a sigh, seemingly exasperated. “But do you _like_ like him?”

Thorin was completely unsure of how to have this conversation, so instead he just asked. “ _Like_ like?”

“Yeah, you know, you want to hug and kiss them and spend time together and do family things.”

“Do you want Bilbo to do family things with us?” Thorin asked now.

Fili smiled crookedly. “He already kind of does. And Kili and I talked about it, and we’re totally okay with you getting a boyfriend. But Kili says you don’t get to hog him and we all share.”

Dwalin laughed like a madman when Thorin reiterated the conversation to him at the station later on that morning. “Oh, shut up.” He threw a pencil at his partner. “You should pity me, not laugh at me. It’s gotten so bad even my nephews are trying to match-make.”

“But you _like_ like him,” Dwalin cooed, teasing him. “We all know you do.” He pressed his hands to his chest and batted his lashes. “How romantic. You should write him a letter: _Do you like me? Check yes or no_.”

Thorin sighed, pressing his hands to his face. “God, I hate you.”

“You could write the letter, you know.” Dwalin said now, in all seriousness. “I mean he is a teacher, I’m sure he’s used to that sort of behaviour.”

“I’m not five.” Thorin groused, flicking at his desk.

“Really?” Dwalin asked, feigning surprise. “Could ‘ave fooled me.”

Thorin just looked up and glowered. “Ha-ha. Very funny. Are you ready to go on patrol?”

“I was born ready.” Dwalin said, grabbing his jacket as Thorin got to his feet. “You, however, were just born unlucky and completely void of all social graces.”

Thorin just rolled his eyes and made for the door.

“So, you havin’ your annual Summer Blowout in July?” Dwalin asked as they got into the car.

“You know the answer to that is always yes.”

“Well,” Dwalin made a face, “maybe it was cancelled this year, I don’t know, do I?” Like it would be cancelled. Not wind nor rain nor a natural disaster could stop the Fourth of July barbeque the family had every year. And even if it was going to be cancelled he doubted it would be in April, two months before planning even started. “Who’s hosting it this time anyway?”

“Frerin in Chicago.” Thank God for that. Last time it had been Dain and all the food had burnt. At least Frerin had some sort of idea about how to prepare the meat.

“The boys excited?”

Thorin shrugged. “Naturally. You and Balin able to make it this year?”

“Well, yeah, but after last year’s fiasco I’m not even sure if we _want_ to go.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t there,” Thorin informed him. “It was horrible.”

“Bombur without food? I can only imagine the peril.”

Thorin laughed.

News always travelled fast in his family, even the gossip that wasn’t actually true, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when he got a call from his mother that evening.

 “Darling?” She sang over the line, sounding pleased with herself. “Dain tells me you’ve got a new squeeze.”

“What?” Thorin squeezed his eyes closed, praying the ground could swallow him whole.

But his mother was still talking, and he was forced to stay in the incredibly embarrassing world of the living. “…I’m a little upset I didn’t hear about it first from you, but I’m still pleased that you’ve finally decided to settle down fully. Fili and Kili will like the extra parental figure around, and-”

“Mom, no.” Who the hell had told her he was in a relationship? And why the hell was she using the word ‘squeeze’ anyway?

“What do you mean?”

“You said _Dain_ told you? _Dain_?”

“Yes, of course. Who else?”

“Right… and who told Dain?”

“Well, he heard it from your second cousin Lydia.”

“And she heard it from?”

“Luke.”

“And Luke heard it from?”

“That charming Greenleaf man said something about it to him in the Supermarket.”

“ _Thranduil_?” Of course he did. That was just how lucky Thorin was.

“Yes, and I’m not really sure who told him.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was the Postman’s wife, who would have been told by Frerin, who was probably told some sort of fib by Fili or Kili. Or maybe Dwalin.”

“So... no new squeeze?”

“Mom, could you not say that word, please? And no. No new squeeze.”

“But there is a _possible contender_ , right?” She prodded.

Thorin let out a huff of air, exasperated. “No. Yes. Maybe- I don’t know, okay? Now, I’ve got to make dinner and put the boys to bed and I really don’t need to talk about my lack of a sex life with you, okay?”

“Well, we weren’t talking about _sex_ , darling.” His mother clicked her tongue. “I’ll go. Say hello to the boys for me, and you’re all coming to the barbeque, aren’t you?”

“Of course we are.”

“Well, why don’t you bring your potential contender down as well. It’ll be nice to meet him, and I promise we’ll be on our best behaviour and won’t scare him away like we did with the last one.”

Thorin groaned. “Goodbye, mom.”

As soon as he clicked the disconnect button and set the phone down on the counter it began trilling again.

“Dain I swear if that’s you I will find you and ram your phone right up your-”

“Oh, dear.”

“… _Bilbo_?”

“Is this a bad time?” He asked tentatively, though Thorin could hear the smile in his words. “I can call back later so you can phone your friend and continue your threats, if you’d like.”

Thorin made a face. “Sorry. It’s just been a stressful morning. Is there… uh, something wrong?”

“No, no! I was just calling to ask a favour, actually?”

“A favour?” Thorin repeated, trying not to delight in the idea of Bilbo owing him something.

“Yes, a favour.”

“What is it?”

“Well, we’re doing a school fete in a week, and I need help with the decorations, and I wouldn’t ask, not usually, but would you mind if you gave me a hand?”

Thorin could give him a hand. Hell, he could give him two hands. Although… he supposed not in the way Bilbo wanted him to.

“Well, I can try,” he replied, aiming for cool and calm, but in reality sounding rather choked, “I mean I’m busy most days but-”

“Well, I can come over at night? After Fili and Kili are asleep. Or before, if you’d like. I’d pay you back in pizza and Chinese and whatever else you feel like eating when I’m over.”

“Oh,” Thorin was rather fond of that idea. “Sure. I can do that. When do you want to start?”

“Well, right away, if you wouldn’t mind. So… tomorrow?”

Thorin grinned. “Sure. Just come ‘round with the stuff and I can get the kids to do some child labour.” _Oh God_ , that didn’t sound funny at all. That was a terrible joke. Poor, tasteless, offensive. But Bilbo was chuckling as Thorin hit his head lightly against the wall, so he assumed it wasn’t all that bad. Although the laugh did sound a little forced and pitying. _Fuck his life_.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

So Bilbo began to come around every few nights, bringing with him massive boxes for making banners and flags and posters and all sorts of things Thorin had no idea how to make at all. Sometimes Fili and Kili helped, but mostly they were too busy yawning to do much else other than wait around for the pizza, devour it, and then go upstairs to get ready for bed.

Which left Thorin a lot of time alone with Bilbo, which he was quite happy about. They got to sit side by side, and talk into the late hours of the night and occasionally he’d brush accidentally against Thorin’s arm- and he felt like such a damn teenager, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about it.

In fact, on more than one occasion, he was certain Bilbo had been flirting with him. Though that seemed a bit of a moot point, mainly because he was too stupid to do anything other than fumble over words and gape like an idiot.

Dwalin was right. He really was born lacking social graces.

But the company in the late hours of the night was nice, especially when his usual night insisted of watching television before half heartedly jerking off in the shower before bed. Though that didn’t really need to be mentioned out loud. His depressing home life wasn’t really something he eagerly shared with others.

Even after the decorations were all done, the late night date (if he could even call it that) was still kept, and Bilbo often came round with a movie or game and they’d stay up until an unreasonably late hour before he sighed and headed home with complaints about having to get up early the next morning for classes. But as much as he complained, he never left early during one of his visits. Not once.

Thorin thought it had to be taken as a positive thing, right? Every time he watched Bilbo leave he sat on the sofa, frowning. He wanted to say something, ask something, but he wasn’t sure how to word it. He wasn’t even sure what _it_ was.

But he had to say something soon, simply because he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. The thought spurred him into action and he decided he’d say something. Bilbo would come around again, once the boys were in bed, and they could have a conversation about it. Well, Thorin would stumble over words and fuck it all up, and Bilbo would just sit there and look confused. But the statement still stood.

He had to do _something_ , and soon, or he’d wind up going mad.

**

Soon turned out to be the next week at the fete, or, at least, Thorin _hoped_ he’d be able to do it at the fete.

The boys had already been on the Ferris wheel and the bumper cars and had eaten far too much cotton candy, but they seemed happy, and Thorin decided that sugar on a stick was okay to eat once in a while. In fact, he himself had given into gluttony and had eaten three large pizza slices and two of those hotdogs with fancy mustard on the top that Bofur was selling at the kiosk near the bumper cars.

He hadn’t seen Bilbo yet, but had noticed the decorations strung up around the school yard, ones he’d help make. He could tell his own shoddy painting and decorating skills, ones that paled in comparison to Bilbo’s neat hand, but he liked the way they looked nonetheless.

Fili and Kili spent a lot of time bragging to the teachers and parents about their input, and some of the other kids looked rather envious about the fact that they’d gotten to help.

“Enjoying the fair?”

Thorin jumped despite himself and turned to find Bilbo smothering a laugh. “Not funny,” he found himself saying, even though he was already smiling.

Bilbo just shrugged. “I’ve never been able to _scare_ someone before. As you can tell I’m just a big ball of non-scariness. Terrifying, right?”

“Bloodcurdling.” Thorin agreed, deadpan. “It, uh, it looks great,” he said now, aimlessly gesturing at the decorations around them.

“Well,” Bilbo grinned, “I should be thanking you for that.”

Something in Thorin’s stomach clenched at the pleasant turn of his lips.

“And us!” Fili said, grabbing hold of the bottom of Bilbo’s jacket and pulling. So much for a little moment.

Bilbo, of course, continued smiling, completely oblivious, and knelt down. “Of course,” he told Fili earnestly, signing so Kili knew what he was saying, “we wouldn’t have been able to do it without the both of you.”

Both boys beamed, even though they actually did nothing.

“Ah, why don’t you two go annoy the living statue over there, hey?” Thorin suggested, pointing to the man completely painted blue just beside the stall filled with carrot cakes and other treats. He didn’t need to sign the words. As soon as the boys saw the statue, they grinned at each other and darted off to go and harass the man into moving.

“Oh, dear.” Bilbo said now. “Poor Gloin.”

Thorin just shrugged. “A few minutes silence for me is enjoyed guilt-free.”

“Ah, I can understand that.”

They quickly fell into the a silence Thorin would usually enjoy, as he'd said before, but this time he didn't enjoy it at all.

“You got the day off of work then?” Bilbo queried, as if to fill the air between them.

“Yeah,” Thorin nodded as he answered, “Dwalin doesn’t mind doing an extra shift. He’s saving for something special.” A ridiculously expensive wedding ring for Ori, though it was a surprise, so Thorin couldn’t say anything to Bilbo about it.

“It must be nice to get out once in a while.” Bilbo was saying now. “Thranduil, the owner of that clothing store down town says you work a lot.”

“Thranduil is a gossip.” Thorin replied dryly. He never liked Thranduil. “But I suppose he’s right. I do work a lot.”

“You have an important job.” Bilbo told him.

“And everyone gives me pitiful looks for being away from my nephews so much.” He sighed, recalling the first few months after becoming their carer, when people were openly complaining about his inability to look after two children when it seemed he could barely look after himself.

“So you’re busy,” he gave a shrug, “everyone’s busy these days, some people have to work two jobs just to keep food on the table. And Fili and Kili don’t seem to mind, it’s not affecting their ability to do class work, or make friends, so I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

Thorin felt strangely happy about Bilbo agreeing with him. “Thanks.”

“Well, people are awfully judgemental about single parents.” Bilbo continued. “Parents can be so… _snipey_ sometimes.”

Thorin snorted. “ _Snipey_?” He repeated.

“Well, working with children all day drains me. By the time I get home I forget words.” He pulled a face. “I’m too tired to bother correcting myself most of the time.”

Thorin knew the feeling. And he liked the fact that he was sure Bilbo knew he understood without having to tell him.

Of course, being a Durin, Thorin was _supposed_ to be well spoken and smooth and charming, and sometimes (when he wanted to be) Thorin was those things. But Bilbo had the disturbing ability to completely cross the wires in his head and turn him into some sort of unsociable, taciturn, idiotic sounding moron who had no idea how to work societal situations.

Which was probably why, instead of casually asking him out to dinner, he simply blurted: _“Do you want to have dinner sometime next week?”_

Bilbo had paused for a few moments, simply blinking, obviously shocked at the direction the conversation had taken.

“I-I mean, uh-” He backpedalled, panicking slightly. _God, what an idiot_. The monologue inside his head sounded far too much like his sister these days.

But in a split second, the confusion on his face melted away and was replaced by one of those bright, sunshine-y smiles Thorin knew all too well. “Sure.”

Relief instantly kicked in, followed by shock and then a warm feeling that settled low in his stomach.

“Great. Great.” He stopped before he kept on muttering the same word over and over. Surely that would make him seem a _little_ bit crazy, and Bilbo would almost certainly change his mind at that. He cleared his throat. “Right, well… yes.”

Okay. He could do this, it was easy. This was good. He said yes.

He said _yes_.

Oh, God, he said yes. To a date. With Thorin. A date Thorin would more than likely fuck up beyond belief.

_God damn it._

**

“God, I hate to sound creepy, brother, but you’d better be damn good in bed because your personality isn’t exactly a winner.”

Thorin heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, as if his brother could hear it through the phone. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“A jerk? Oh, my, how scathing.” Frerin retorted dryly. “I suppose that means the boys are nearby?”

Thorin glanced over the kitchen counter and into the living room where the boys were sitting on the couch, watching some movie. “You’d be correct in that assumption, yes.”

“What are you making him?” Thorin had decided that it was best they had dinner at his place, mainly because everyone in the town was a major gossip and would be talking about the date for weeks to come, and Thorin didn’t really need to deal with that right now, but also, kind of because Balin was going to look after the boys for a while so Bilbo and Thorin could be completely alone.

God, that made him sound like a serial killer or something.

“I don’t know.” Thorin sighed. “Do you think it’d be wrong to just buy it somewhere else and reheat it in the oven?”

“God, how did you even get this far in your life without-” the rest of the sentence was cut off, and all he could really hear was his brother muttering a string of curses and smothering a laugh. “And people say _I’m_ the hopeless one.”

“I am not hopeless.”

“You don’t even know how to cook with anything but the microwave.”

“I can make eggs.” And occasionally spaghetti that doesn’t come out of a tin. But the last time he did that he burnt it all to the bottom of the pan and almost set fire to the kitchen. So he decided it was best he left that part out.

“Look, why don’t you just do something simple,” his voice turned teasing and cheeky. “The boys can help before they bugger off so _you_ can bugger off-”

“Oh, my God.” Thorin pressed his hands to his face. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about this.”

Frerin was just laughing. “Look, make hotdogs for all I care. He said yes, so that means he likes you already. And he’s going to find out about your shoddy cooking skills sooner or later, so you might as well make it sooner.”

Thorin heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Look, I’ve got to go and procure a ridiculously massive amount of meat for a Fourth of July practice run, so have fun stressing over what to cook for your little love-muffin.”

Thorin grumbled in reply, moving to hang up.

“Oh, and Thorin?” He was sure he heard from the phone. He put it back to his ear.

“Yes?” He asked.

There was a barely repressed snicker in the words. “Mom told me to tell you to use condoms.”

“Oh, for fu-” Thorin hung up on his laughing brother. “Alright, you two.” He said now, putting the phone back in its cradle. “Time for bed.”

“But I want to see Sam kill the demon!” Fili whined. Kili just pouted.

“No, come on,” he turned the television off, clearing their plates from the coffee table. “You’ll have nightmares again and I’ll wake up with your feet in my face because you crawled in with me to keep you safe.”

“Well, if it was you and me I’d be able to get away while they kill you.” Fili huffed, getting to his feet.

Thorin frowned slightly. “I’m touched. Really. Now, go and brush your teeth, the both of you.” He signed the word _teeth_ before pointing up to the stairs. Kili sighed in unison with his brother, and they both trailed up the stairs morosely.

He huffed a laugh as he watched them. “Bed time is not the end of the world.” He called up the stairs.

“Yes it is!” Came Fili’s reply.

He rolled his eyes. “Drama Queen.” He uttered.

“I heard that!”

Thorin laughed before taking the dishes to the kitchen to wash up.

**

“So,” Dwalin said conversationally as they sat in the cruiser, watching for speeders on the road out of town.

“So,” Thorin replied dully.

“Big date night tonight.”

Thorin glanced at him suspiciously. “Have you been talking to Frerin, by any chance?”

“No, why, what did Frerin say?”

“Oh, you know, the usual mocking quips.”

Dwalin chuckled. “You’re his older brother, he’s supposed to hate you.”

“I didn’t realise there was a rule.” Thorin mused now, bringing his coffee to his lips.

Dwalin shrugged. “I hate Balin. Not so much anymore, of course, because he’s baldin’ but not admittin’ it.”

Thorin frowned. “You’re bald.”

“That’s not the point.” Dwalin frowned irritably.

“Right, of course not.”

“ _I_ can admit it.” He continued, defending himself for reasons beyond Thorin. “He just pretends he has hair up there. He says it’s _just_ _thin_.”

“Ori likes your bald head. Or, at least, you told me he said it once while you two were having sex. By the way, I’d appreciate you not mention your sex life to me ever again.”

“Noted.” Dwalin replied simply, taking a sip from his own coffee with a smile.

“And you and Balin are always competing about who looks older.”

“Well, I win because he looks like my Grandpa.” Dwalin insisted. “Fili says I look cooler because of my tattoos. He also says that Balin smells like mothballs,” he added, sounding pleased.

“Fili also says that when he grows up he wants to be a unicorn.” Thorin reminded him.

“Well, yes. But that doesn’t take away any wisdom from his other words.”

Thorin rolled his eyes.

“Besides,” Dwalin continued, “we’re digressin’. We _were_ talkin’ about your hot date. What are you cooking?”

He was beginning to hate that reoccurring question. “I have no idea. Maybe I’ll just make Mac ‘n Cheese.”

Dwalin burst into paroxysms of laughter. “Jesus, Thorin,” he managed between bellowing snorts, holding his sides as if they’d break, “you’re thirty-seven with two children and you can’t even make pasta?”

“Don’t mention pasta to me.” Thorin groaned. “If I try again I’m sure I’ll set the place on fire for sure.”

“Well, why don’t you make stir fry? It’s easy, I swear, and there’s like, little to no effort besides chopping and waiting.”

“Really?” Thorin was suspicious.

“Yeah,” Dwalin insisted, looking sincere.

But Thorin could never really be sure with him… “If I set fire to the house, Dwalin, I swear to God-”

“The boys will be there to help you.” Dwalin cut in smoothly. “You’ll be fine.”

Thorin wasn’t so sure about that.

**

“Okay, so the meat goes into the pot.” Thorin said, dumping the diced beef into the pot and turning it on. “And then we chop the vegetables.” Kili was beside him, standing on a stool and neatly ordering carrots and broccoli on the chopping board for Thorin to get to work on.

Fili was reading the cookbook Dwalin had loaned him, shrewdly peering over occasionally to make sure he was doing it right.

He’d finished the cabbage and was moving to the peppers when Fili called out to him.

“Uh, Uncle Thorin?” Fili was standing in front of the oven.

“Yes?”

“You did put _oil_ in the pot first, right?”

Thorin paused before the pungent smell of burning filled his nostrils. “Uh…” He rushed over to the pot, pulling off the lid and letting copious amounts of smoke billow from the pot and upwards to the roof. The smoke alarms soon went off, and Thorin yanked the pot off of the element before throwing it into the sink and turning it on to clear the air.

Fili disappeared for a moment before running back in with cushions and he opened the kitchen windows while Thorin fanned at the alarms, hoping they’d stop their incessant beeping soon. Kili was nowhere to be seen.

By the time the smoke had finally cleared, Thorin was using a string of curses usually only saved for when children weren’t nearby. He glanced in the sink turning off the tap to find the charred remains of the beef he’d started cooking.

“Oh, my,” a voice breathed from the doorway.

Thorin turned to find Kili at the door, holding hand with Bilbo.

 _I saw him at the door through the kitchen window._ He signed simply, smiling.

“Dinner not working out so well?” Bilbo asked cautiously, looking like he wanted to tease.

Thorin let out a heaving sigh. “How do you feel about Chinese?” He suggested.

“I could do Chinese.” Bilbo replied with a grin.

“We’re having lasagne for dinner!” Fili announced, parading about the kitchen.

Bilbo raised an inquiring brow.

“They’re going next door to Uncle Balin’s for dinner tonight.” Thorin explained. “He loves cooking and I… well, I think it’s obvious what I am.” He gestured to the mess of a kitchen around him.

“You made dinner alright the other time I came over.” Bilbo reminded him now. “And that tasted fine.”

“I only know how to cook two things.” He shrugged.

“But you can cook them well.” Bilbo argued.

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Well enough, you mean.”

Bilbo called the take away place while Thorin took the boys over to Balin’s.

“You enjoy your nice private night.” Balin informed him, winking, and Thorin repressed a groan. It was a date, _one_ date. Fili and Kili would be due to come back soon, so there would hardly be anything even slightly sexual going on between them. Thorin was doubtful he’d even get a kiss let alone something from a really bad romance novel or porno. Not that he was thinking of… oh, never mind.

Bilbo was relaxing on the sofa when Thorin got back home; flipping casually through the recipe book Dwain had given him.

“You want a drink?” Thorin offered.

Bilbo looked up at him. “Oh, definitely. I had a very long day at school today. We’ve been learning about animal noises, so my ear drums have been burst by numerous howls and shrieks.”

“Sounds like fun.” Thorin grabbed two beers from the fridge before returning back to the lounge room.

“You have no idea.” Bilbo told him, taking one of the bottles from him. Their fingers brushed, and Thorin prided himself on keeping his cool while the jolt of electric excitement shot through his body. He sat down on the other side of the sofa, turning to face him. “Days like today were _exactly_ the reason why I decided to get into teaching.” He added sarcastically.

Thorin chuckled. “Why did you get into teaching?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I like kids. I know a lot of useless facts about things. It seemed to work. What about you?”

“I got bored with being an accountant.”

Bilbo choked on his drink. “An accountant?” He laughed, looking close to tears.

“Everyone always laughs when I say that.” He was frowning now. “I don’t know why.”

Bilbo cleared his throat, composing himself. “Let’s say you just don’t seem like the ‘accountant’ type.” He said now. “So, what? You just decided to join the police?”

“Dwalin helped me decide,” Thorin explained, “I hated my job and he said I should go to one of their information sessions,” he paused before adding, “It seemed to work.”

Bilbo grinned. “So, no big event happen in your life to give you the epiphany of helping others?”

“Not really.”

“But you enjoy it, your job?” he prodded.

Thorin nodded. “Much more than accounting,” he informed Bilbo with a smile.

“Why’d you even get into accounting in the first place?”

“I’d always been good with numbers, it was easy, and it paid quite well. I thought I’d just do it while I decided what I really wanted to do.”

“And then one year turned into ten and you were stuck in a job you hated.” Bilbo finished.

“Exactly. How’d you know that?”

“Ah,” Bilbo paused, clearing his throat. “That’s how it happened with Bofur.”

“Oh.”

Bilbo made a face. “Sorry. Weird thing to bring up on a date, right?”

Thorin laughed, feeling lighter really only because Bilbo had referred to this as a date. “Well, at least you didn’t nearly set fire to the house.”

“There is that.” Bilbo agreed, and the doorbell rang. “Oh, that’ll be the food.”

Thorin made mood to stand up, but Bilbo pushed him back down onto the sofa. “I’ve got it.” He insisted, calling over his shoulder as he grabbed the food.

“So, how is Bofur?” Thorin asked as they dished the food up.

Bilbo shrugged. “Good. He will _not_ stop talking about Nori, though. I feel I need to meet the man now, all the information I know about him makes me feel creepy because I’ve never actually met him.”

“Nori’s well liked,” Thorin replied, “surprisingly, for someone of his background.”

Bilbo hummed an agreement, taking a large bite of some honey soy chicken and moaning zealously in delight. Thorin abruptly found himself concentrating on his own food with a newly found vigour.

“So, pick up any more solicitors?” Bilbo finally teased, goosing Thorin’s leg with his foot.

“Not really, no,” Thorin smiled a little. “That sort of thing doesn’t go on a lot here- at least, not on the streets.”

“So what do you do all day?” Bilbo cocked his head to the side. “Help cats out of trees?”

“You’re thinking of the Fire Department.” Thorin corrected.

“Right, right, of course. _But_ ,” he said now, drawing the word out in a sing-song voice, “you didn’t deny it.”

Thorin actually had gotten a cat out of a tree the other week, but he wasn’t going to admit it to Bilbo. He just turned back to his meal.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Bilbo sighed theatrically now. “But I will find out. I always find everything out.”

Thorin didn’t doubt that he did.

The rest of the date went surprisingly well, considering the fact that Thorin had almost ended it before it even began by almost setting his home on fire, and the fact that they had to buy take out because he was a ridiculous excuse for a cook. Not that he claimed to be one in the first place.

“This was nice.” Bilbo said, getting to his feet. It was getting late, and Fili and Kili would be back soon, shrilly screaming and refusing to go to bed and using bad words they’d heard Thorin say. “We should do it again.”

Thorin smiled, shoulders relaxing when he realised he hadn’t screwed this up completely, that Bilbo wanted to go on another date.

“Yeah,” he said, and for a moment they both ambled at the front door.

“Well,” Bilbo said suddenly, as if having made a decision about something. “I’ll see you later then.” And he leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Thorin’s mouth before making a hasty retreat out the door and down the drive.

Thorin grinned like an idiot for the rest of the night.

**

 _When are you going to tell Bilbo you’re in love with him?_ Kili signed, looking genuinely curious as he waited for an answer.

Well- what to say to _that_. He could try lying, of course, but Kili was shrewd and always seemed to see through that sort of thing. Instead, Thorin just sighed.

 _It’s not that easy_. He replied, keeping his face soft. If he scowled, Kili would think he was mad at him for asking. And he wasn’t. He was a bit irritated, however. If a eleven year old child could realise he was smitten, then it seemed he was more obvious than he’d hoped.

 _Sure it is_. Kili signed now. _You tell him you love him and then you do what Beyonce says and put a ring on it_.

Thorin snorted, _Remind me to never let Fili show you any music videos again._

Kili just wrinkled his nose.   _Is he coming to the party?_

_I don’t think Bilbo would want to come to Chicago, Kili._

_Why not?_ Kili looked upset.

Thorin sighed. _He probably has plans of his own. Friends or family to visit and celebrate the Fourth of July with._

_Is this because you think Uncle Frerin will embarrass you?_

_Who told you that?_ He asked.

Kili shrugged. _Uncle Frerin._

_When?_

_Last night._ Kili signed back.

 _On Skype?_ Thorin wondered.

 _No._ Kili looked irritated. _He visited me in a hallucination._

Thorin raised an eyebrow, impressed. _Why wasn’t I told about this secret Skype meeting?_

 _Because it’s a secret._ Kili signed back, as if it were obvious. _And Uncle Frerin said you probably didn’t want to talk to him because he makes fun of you._

Thorin sighed. That _was_ true. _Well, it’s not that, Kili, I promise. Bilbo and I haven’t been together that long, is all, and it would be weird if I took him to meet my family right now._

 _So,_ Kili paused, _next year?_

Thorin sighed again. _Maybe._ He allowed. _It depends._

Kili grinned, obviously placated. _Good_.

 _Alright_ , Thorin sighed now, _I have to get to work. You’ll behave, right?_

_No parties, no drugs, I know._

Thorin raised an eyebrow. _Aren’t you a little young to be doing drugs?_

Kili shrugged. _If I try coffee, does it count?_

Thorin laughed. “You’re a weird kid.” He said, ruffling his hair before getting to his feet. “Fili!”

“Yeah?” Came the muffled voice from upstairs.

“Make sure Kili eats his vegetables tonight.”

There was a slight pause. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you two in the morning, and remember-”

“If something happens, go to Balin.” Fili repeated the words like a mantra, coming ‘round the corner and looking at Thorin from the top of the stairs. “We know, we know.”

“Good.”

Of course he wasn’t going to invite Bilbo to the family gathering. First off, they hadn’t known each other long enough for that (as he’d mentioned to Kili), secondly he wasn’t sure he could take the embarrassment, and thirdly, he didn’t even know if Bilbo _wanted_ to go. So no, he wasn’t going to invite him.

That didn’t stop him though, of course, from picking up the phone on his way to work and calling him.

“Jim’s whorehouse- you got the dough, we’ve got the hoe.”

Thorin gave a dry laugh. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

Bilbo snorted. “I thought it was, yes. Admittedly, I spent a good many hours thinking of it instead of getting the sleep I should have gotten. What’s up?”

“I was just calling. You know, say hi.” There was a pause. “So… hi.”

Bilbo laughed at him. “Hi. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I’m on my way now.”

“Using a phone in a car?” Bilbo clicked his tongue. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, certain Bilbo knew he was doing it. “I’m walking to work tonight.”

“Oh. Really?” he sounded surprised.

“Yes, really.”

A slight pause. “Do you do that a lot?”

Thorin shrugged, although no one was around to see it. “Sometimes. Why?”

“Eh,” he heard Bilbo move, obviously stretching in his sofa or chair ( _or_ if Thorin was really lucky, maybe he’d be in bed). “I’m not really one for exercise unless being forced.”

“I see.”

Bilbo spluttered. “You _see_? I think I should be offended.”

“No,” Thorin answered calmly, “you shouldn’t. You look fine.”

“ _Just_ fine?” Bilbo teased.

“Better than fine. You look…” Thorin trailed off.

“Devilishly handsome?” Bilbo supplied.

“I was going to say lovely, but if you’d prefer that…”

Bilbo snorted. “ _Lovely_. I haven’t been called lovely since I was seven and my parents pinched my cheeks and told me I was a good boy.”

“Sexually appealing, then?” He suggested, making Bilbo burst into laughter.

“I like that. I like that very much.”

“Good. So, what are you doing for the Fourth of July?” Stupid question, but he wanted to know anyway.

“Oh, Ori’s family’s having a gathering, which’ll be nice. They don’t have any parents, though I suppose you already know that because you know Nori. Anyway,” he continued, “they invited me over because they know I don’t have any family around here, and we’re going to have a nice meal and watch the fireworks at the park. What about you?”

“Oh, we’re going to Chicago. We have a big family barbeque every year and we switch who hosts it, this year my brother got it.”

“That sounds nice,” Thorin could hear the smile in Bilbo’s words, and knew he genuinely meant it. “Is yours a big family?”

“Oh, yes. Big and loud and obnoxious and completely embarrassing to be around.” He paused. “But it’s nice, having so many people around.”

“I can only imagine.”

Thorin instantly felt guilty, which was why he blurted the next words out without thinking. “You can come, if you’d like.” He sad immediately, before wincing. He continued on, somehow managing to babble his way deeper into the hole he’d dug. “I mean, ditch the Ri’s- although that may upset them. Balin and Dwalin are coming this year, too. They missed last years, there was a bit of a… accident. I suppose Ori’s a little upset he can’t go this year, too, but after Dwalin proposes-” He cut himself off with a surprised noise. “No. Forget I said that. I don’t, uh, I mean…”

“Well,” Bilbo said after a moment’s silence. “Where do I start?”

“Preferably not with the Ori thing.” Thorin added quietly.

“So… this ‘accident’,” Bilbo began instead. “Were you hosting when it happened?”

“No!” Thorin said immediately.

Bilbo was chucking. “Hey, don’t be mad at me. Your track record isn’t that great.”

Thorin sighed. “Dain. My cousin. He was too busy ogling Frerin’s girlfriend at the time to check the food, and we ended up with nothing.”

“It seems lack of skill in the kitchen runs in the family.”

“We make up for it in other ways.”

“Oh, do you?” There was a teasing tone in the words.

Thorin’s face heated up. “I didn’t mean it like _that_.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I have to go.” Thorin said, mainly because he was arriving at the station now, but more so because he’d just embarrassed the fuck out of himself. “I’ll see you later.”

“Alright, bye-bye Iron Chef,” And then he hung up.

It wasn’t until well into his shift, sitting at the desk, hunched over paperwork, that he realised Bilbo had completely ignored his stupid question, seeing it for the word vomit it was, rather than an actual, serious query, for which Thorin was insanely thankful.

**

June ended and July rolled around in a wave of sticky heat and Thorin was glad for not having to wear his far-too-hot uniform. Bilbo saw them off to the airport, just he, Fili and Kili, because two nights ago Balin and Dwalin had the ridiculously stupid idea of _driving_ to Chicago. In this heat. In that crappy, non-air-conditioned car of Balin’s. Thorin was sure they’d be tearing at each others throats by now.

“I’ll, uh, see you when you get back,” Bilbo waved his hands vaguely at them as they said goodbye.

Thorin wasn’t certain on what to do next, and by the looks of it, neither was Bilbo. They’d only been on a few more dates, as both of them had been busy, and they hadn’t really progressed from the cautious goodnight kiss yet.

Bilbo hesitated slightly before leaning forward, and Thorin swooped down to meet his lips. Fili wolf whistled, which Thorin had to admit he was impressed by because he hadn’t known Fili knew how to do that in the first place. When he turned back to Bilbo, his face was red and flushed with embarrassment. Thorin kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll see you in a few days.” He said over his shoulders, both the boys insisting they’d miss him while they were gone.

“Enjoy your crappy flight with two hyperactive children.” Bilbo called back, grinning at Thorin’s pain already.

The flight wasn’t too bad. Fili always got a little sick during flights, but they were both kept entertained by the movies being played, although Kili (due to lack of subtitles) spent more of his time reading than anything else.

Thorin tried to get some much needed sleep, but he never did well with planes so instead just sat there for most of the flight, feeling nauseous, much like Fili did.

When the plane finally touched down they were all eager to get out and stretch their legs. Frerin met them in the arrivals.

“Uncle Frerin!” Both the boys rushed to him, jumping and crushing him in a tangle of limbs. Frerin just laughed, slowly disentangling himself from the mess.

“Hello to you, too,” he said with a grin. “And to you, as well, dear brother.”

Thorin just rolled his eyes. “Carry a bag.”

Frerin raised an eyebrow. “Eloquent as ever.” He replied, but grabbed Fili’s bag and slung it over his shoulder anyway. “No lover boy?” He asked conversationally, sounding far too innocent.

“You knew he wasn’t coming.”

Frerin just shrugged as they exited the airport. “Car’s this way.” Fili and Kili were practically vibrating, jumping on the balls of their feet, running circles around them both.

“Is everyone here yet?”

“Yeah, Dwalin and Balin arrived this morning. Ready to tear each others throats out.” Frerin let out a laugh. “I think they were glad for some space and coffee. Dwalin told me he gets enough crappy coffee at work.”

“He’s right about that.”

“You should employ a barista.” Frerin informed him, unlocking the car and helping the boys in the back. Thorin waited until he was seated in the passenger seat and Frerin was starting the car before he replied.

“Like we could afford that,” Thorin snorted.

“Just a suggestion,” Frerin rejoined lightly, and the rest of the ride was spent in silence. Well, on Thorin’s part anyway. Fili and Kili badgered Frerin for information on every little thing that had been going on in Chicago the past few months.

Thorin took out his phone. **_Already regretting visiting the family and I’m not even out of the car yet._ **

Bilbo’s reply came through quickly. **_Somebody set fire to the barbeque again?_**

**_I wish._ **

He could almost hear Bilbo’s snort. **_Just be thankful your food is edible. Ori made tofu burgers._**

“Hey, want to come back to reality there, man?” Frerin’s voice caught his attention again. “We’re here.” He gestured to the windshield, and Thorin looked out to find the family slowly piling out to say hello.

 ** _Wish me luck._** He wrote and shoved the phone back into his pocket before stepping out of the car.

“Thorin!” His mother was the first to reach him, standing on the tips of her toes so she could reach him. She kissed his cheek. “Look at you! I swear you get taller every time you visit.”

“Maybe you’re just shrinking, Ma.” Frerin said, and she clicked her tongue before slapping his arm.

“Your brother never was good at handling attention on others.” She mock-whispered, earning a glower from her younger son. “Come on, your father’s inside.”

He felt his phone buzz as he passed by his aunt, begrudgingly allowing her to pinch his cheek before turning to the boys.

 ** _Should I play Mission Impossible music for you to get in the mood?_** Was the message he found waiting for him. Thorin repressed a snicker.

 ** _O Fortuna would be more fitting._** He replied.

“Ah, ah!” His mother slapped his hand. “You know the rules- no phones at the summer party!”

Thorin sighed before turning it off and slipping the phone into his back pocket. “Alright, alright.”

“Come and say hello to your father.” She ushered him onto the back porch, where his father was standing.

“Thorin,” Thrain threw a welcoming arm around his shoulder. “Good to see you.”

“Hi, dad.”

“Drink?” He leant down and grabbed a beer from the cooler.

“Sure.” Thorin said, reaching out to take it from him.

“How’s work?”

Thorin just shrugged.

“Your mother tells me you’ve got a new girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Thorin corrected.

“Boyfriend.” Thrain agreed. “I get you and Frerin mixed up sometimes.”

Thorin didn’t blame him; a lot of people mistook him and Frerin for each other. Though, honestly, he couldn’t see why.

“How’s Fili and Kili?” Thrain asked.

“They’re here.”

Thrain frowned, a familiar confusion clouding his face. “They live with you.”

“No, dad. I brought them with me.”

Thrain’s face cleared. “Oh. Of course. How’s work?” It wasn’t uncommon for Thrain to forget the train of a conversation, and he often ended up repeating himself many times.

Thorin shrugged again. “It’s fine.”

Thrain opened his mouth to speak again, but his mother cut in smoothly.

“Dwalin is here.” She informed him, and Thrain nodded in agreement, gesturing with his bottle to the spot across the yard where Dwalin was standing with Dain near the barbeque.

That couldn’t be safe.

“I’d better go make sure Dain isn’t helping cook.”

His mother laughed, and his father gave him a vague smile. “Alright.”

“I thought he was doing better.” He whispered to his mother on the way down the stairs.

“He has good days and bad days.” Was all she said in reply. “Today is a not so good.”

“Look who finally made it.” Dain greeted him as he walked over. “You’re looking good. Not as tired as you looked last year.”

“Maybe that was just from talking to you.”

“Oh,” Dain pressed a hand to his chest, faking hurt. “Someone’s feeling sassy today.”

“How was the flight?” Dwalin asked him.

“Uncomfortable.” Thorin replied, rolling his shoulders. “But no one threw up, so I’ll count that as a win. How was your road trip?”

Dwalin groaned. “Okay, okay, I’ll admit that you were right when you said it was a bad idea.”

Thorin grinned. “That fun, huh?”

“I forgot how annoyin’ Balin was.”

“I heard that.” Balin called from a few feet away. Dwalin just shrugged.

“Dwalin was telling me all about your new _friend_.” Dain said now, grinning impishly.

Thorin looked at Dwalin, unimpressed. “Did he?” He asked now, voice flat.

“He did, indeed. Why isn’t he here? I’m sure everyone would love to meet him.”

“You really think I’d bring him here to be frightened by all of you?” Thorin just raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

Dain let out a booming, friendly laugh, not insulted at all by his cousin’s words. “A smart decision.” He agreed. “You remember what happened with Frerin’s old girlfriend.”

Dwalin snorted. “That was funny.”

“Alright!” Frerin called from the porch, jumping down the stairs and landing on the grass with his usual grace. “Let’s get this food started!” There was a scattered applause as he reached the barbeque and began to load meat onto the grill.

“So I heard you started dating someone.” There was a heavy clap on his shoulder, and Thorin turned to find his grandfather standing over him.

Thorin just gave a nod. “I am.”

“How nice,” his grandmother cooed, smiling happily, before leaning in to add in a whisper: “I heard he was a ginger.”

Thorin choked on his drink. Grandma Durin had always had some strange obsession with red-heads. To be honest, it had never occurred to him that it might be a problem. In fact, Bilbo’s hair was hardly red at all.

“I have nothing against gingers of course; you remember my sister had red hair.”

“I do, yes, Grandma.” Thorin replied, closing his eyes and pretending he wasn’t here.

“Eva,” Thror warned when she opened her mouth once more.

“What? I didn’t say anything rude. And Fili told me the red hair wasn’t that alarming orange colour-”

“He looks just fine.” Thorin assured her, wishing the ground would open up beneath him.

This was going to be a long few days.

**

It was hot and sticky and raining when they finally got home, and Thorin was left with the shitload of laundry that needed to be done. Not that anyone cared, both the boys were out the back throwing the football Frerin had given them in Chicago before they left.

Thorin was used to everyone around him disappearing when chores needed to be done. He couldn’t blame them, after all, before he became Fili and Kili’s legal custodian, he’d been one of the ones who made themselves scarce when dishes or sweeping were mentioned in conversation.

He couldn’t quite remember when his priorities had shifted from going to the pub on Thursday nights to sorting the woollen clothes from the cotton, and he had to admit he longed for a time where he could leave his socks on the floor and stay out as late as he wanted. But, surprisingly enough, he liked domesticality, which was an amusing revelation to have, mainly because out of all the Durin siblings, he had been the least likely to ever have children in his care. He hadn’t wanted kids. Sure, he liked them well enough, but he was certain he was neither a family man, nor did he have the ability to care for little people. So he had been just as surprised as everyone else when Dis’ will stipulated he be given the boys. No one had argued, of course, but Thorin could tell everyone was wondering how he’d be able to handle two boisterous boys without handcuffing them to their beds.

He was proud to say he’d never resorted to that before, and hopefully wouldn’t have to do it anytime in the near future.  Although he was sure there’d be times when the boys were teenagers when he’d be forced to threaten them with such things. He wasn’t too excited about the upcoming years when they’d be teenagers. What he remembered from when he was that age had him more than a little apprehensive about raising two teenage boys.

He could feel a coronary coming on just thinking about it.

By the time all the laundry had been washed and dried and folded and then pulled out of their neat piles by the boys and thrown about their rooms, and he had managed to feed them all without a disaster occurring, it was time to wrestle them into bed and then collapse into his own. There wasn’t nearly enough hours in the day and he had too many things to cram into the short timeline before the sun disappeared again and he needed sleep (not that he ever really got it).

He was still tired and grumpy when he arrived at work the next morning, although tired and grumpy was his default setting, so there was nothing new there.

“Did I miss anything?” He asked Tauriel after draining what was left of his second cup of coffee. She just shrugged.

“Got a tip that there’s a guy in town known for Procuring, but he hasn’t done anything, so we’re just sitting and watching for now.”

Thorin heaved a sigh.  “Wonderful. Name?”

“Smaug. First name is completely unpronounceable.” She lobbed a file onto his desk. “Thought you might want to have a look.”

“Thanks,” he said, flipping through it. It took him more than a few minutes to realise Tauriel hadn’t left and had taken up residence perched casually on the edge of his desk, looking rather smug.

“Good family gathering?”  She asked once she saw he noticed she hadn’t moved.

Tauriel had a smile on her face that made him cautious in his answer. “Yes,” he said slowly. “What of it?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that I got twenty calls last night on the graveyard shift asking about your new _friend_.”

“ _No_ ,” he put his head in his hands, “how’d they even-”

But Tauriel must have known what he was thinking. “It was my mobile number. Seems your family are a bunch of massive gossips, and seeing as I investigate things for a living… well, Dwalin seemed to think it was a match made in heaven.”

“What sort of lies have you been telling them?” Thorin demanded, knowing Tauriel lived simply to make his life chaos.

“Nothing, nothing,” she insisted sweetly, putting her hands up. “Only things everyone knows. Like the fact that you’re head over heels for him and pine when he doesn’t reply to your messages instantly.”

“I _am not_ and I _do not_.” But his voice was slightly weak, and the words held no heat. Was he really that far gone? And was it really _that_ obvious? How embarrassing.

He was running on little to no sleep and an ungodly amount of caffeine when his phone rang some hours later that day, bringing him out of his sluggish stupor. He looked up from his paperwork he and Dwalin had been filling out, grabbing hold of his phone. “Hello?” he grumbled, not having bothered to check the caller ID.

“Thorin?” He sounded so desperate and lost and utterly despondent that Thorin felt like he’d kicked a puppy or done some other fiendishly cruel thing.

“Bilbo?” He straightened, wincing when his back gave a pinching spasm he realised he’d been hunched over for God knows how many hours. “What is it?”

Bilbo was already rambling. “I thought maybe I was just overreacting, you know, I tend to worry a lot, and I didn’t want to bother anyone, but this is… and I… I just- I didn’t know who else to call.” His voice broke miserably on the last few words.

“Bilbo,” Thorin repeated, trying to break through the swamp of words, “what is it?”

He’d caught Dwalin’s attention now, who was watching with a raised eyebrow. “He okay?” he mouthed. Thorin just shrugged.

“Bofur,” was the replying sniffle over the other end of the phone, “he- everything was going fine and then he got a call and now he’s gone and-”

“Stop,” his voice was probably harsh, but he needed to get Bilbo to relax or else he’d be listening to a full blown panic attack. “Take a deep breath in, Bilbo.” He ordered.

He could hear Bilbo breathing deeply, trying to keep himself calm over the line. “Okay.” He said eventually. “Okay...”

“You said Bofur got a call before leaving?” He asked now.

He could hear Bilbo sniffling on the other end. “Yes,” he replied miserably. “This morning. He looked upset and worried but after he hung up he just looked angry. I was going to ask about it when I got home from work, but I was in a rush to get out of the door…”

“You think he’s in trouble?” Thorin demanded, ignoring the beeping that meant he was getting another call.

“Oh, I know it. I do, I’m sure. I called his friend, that Nori fellow, and he said he hadn’t seen him all day.”

“Just relax,” Thorin found himself saying gently into the phone. “The only thing you can do right now is calm down and wait. We’ll find him, alright? Don’t panic.”

Dwalin’s mobile began to trill.

“Okay,” came Bilbo’s reply, “I trust you.”

The words sent warmth blossoming in Thorin’s chest. “I’ll call you when we find him.” He hung up, frowning at the message of: _Three Missed Calls_ blinking on his screen before noticing Dwalin trying to get his attention. “What is it?” he asked. Dwalin just chucked his mobile at him.

“Somethin’ to do with Bofur.”

Thorin put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Thorin, its Nori. I know where Bofur went.”

Thorin straightened. “Where?” he demanded.

“He kept talking about this guy- his old pimp. Real nasty piece of work, he was. Said his name was-”

“Smaug,” Thorin finished, and Dwalin gave a groan.

“This town is getting far too exciting for my liking.” He grumbled, grabbing his gun and slipping it into the holster.

“You know him?” Nori asked, catching Thorin’s attention once more.

“He’s in town,” he replied with. “Get on with the story.”

“Well, Bofur called me a few minutes ago. Said he was going to talk to him, finish the nasty business and all that. I tried to stop him, but…”

“It’s fine. You know where?”

“Said something about a hotel, he didn’t tell me which one, though.”

That sure as hell narrowed it down though. Town like this was small and there were only so many inns and motels. “I’ll get on it straight away.” He was about to hand up when he heard the Nori’s voice over the line again.

“Thorin?”

He pulled it back to his ear. “What is it?”

“Chase the bastard out of town, yeah?”

Thorin nodded even though Nori couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”

**

Smaug was a pretty memorable guy, so it wasn’t hard to find the hotel he was staying at, and they pulled up outside to find Bofur being herded towards a car in the parking lot.

Smaug, who seemed even more insidious and snake-like in person, immediately stiffened upon seeing the local police, and released Bofur’s arm immediately.

“Officers,” he said snidely once they’d both gotten out of the patrol car and walked over to them. “Can we help you?”

“Where you off to, Bofur?” Dwalin asked, ignoring Smaug completely.

Bofur just shrugged. “Nowhere, really.”

“You sure about that?” Thorin queried, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, is it illegal for two people to get in the same car and go somewhere together?”

“It can be if it involves a man known for Procuring and an ex-prostitute.”

Bofur shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next at Thorin’s accusation. “He was just giving me a ride home.”

“Was he,” Dwalin mused, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “What a gentlemen.”

“Bilbo’s waiting for you at home, you know.” Thorin informed him. “He’s been worried.”

Bofur looked instantly guilty. “I didn’t want to bother him…”

“Nori was worried as well,” Dwalin added. “He called us to tell us you’d gone off to meet your friend here.”

Smaug pursed his lips. “Where he goes is really none of your business, _officer_. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He made move to get in the car. “Come on, Bofur.”

Bofur hesitated, looking torn, his gaze darting from Smaug to Thorin and Dwalin. “I-”

“Bofur,” Smaug snapped, sliding into the passenger seat. “In the car, _now_.”

Dwalin cut in front of Bofur smoothly, waving for him to stay put before circling to the driver’s side of the car. “Nice car,” he commented. “You do know, however, that it is illegal to drive with a broken taillight?”

“My taillight isn’t-”

Thorin raised a heavy boot and slammed his foot into the back of the car, crushing through the taillight and breaking it.

“Oh, dear,” Dwalin said, dead-pan. “It seems you won’t be goin’ anywhere unless _that_ gets fixed.”

Smaug snarled, snapping open the door and stalking out of the car, pushing into Dwalin as he went. “I’ll sue you for that!”

“For what?” Dwalin feigned ignorance. “I don’t believe we did anythin’, did we, Thorin?”

“Not at all.” Thorin agreed. “Your behaviour, however, Mister Smaug, is completely unreasonable. You are aware that you hit Officer Dwalin when you exited your vehicle?”

“Aye, yes,” Dwalin ran a hand over his side. “Slammed me with the car door. Now, assaultin’ an officer,” he clicked his tongue, “that is _also_ illegal, and pretty serious, if I do say so m’self.”

“You’ll be coming with us, Mister Smaug,” Thorin pulled out his handcuffs. “And I suppose there’s no doubt that once we search your things,” he continued as he pulled Smaug’s hands behind his back, “we’ll find a long list of other convictions to add.”

Dwalin glanced over his shoulder at Bofur. “Thorin will see you home, Bofur, Bilbo’ll be waitin’ for you.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the cruiser. “You can take the car, I’ll radio in and get someone to come and check his hotel room before we take him in.”

“Alright,” Thorin put a hand on Bofur’s shoulder and led him to the car.

Bilbo was a mess. He crushed Bofur in a bear hug the moment he stepped inside the door, burying his face into his shoulder. “I thought you’d gone off again.” He said, sniffling as he pulled away. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

“I didn’t want to go,” Bofur insisted. “I wasn’t _going_ to go. I want to stay.”

Bilbo smiled, though his expression was still watery, and turned to Thorin.

“Sorry I didn’t call.” Thorin apologised now. He had promised, after all…

“Are you kidding me?” Bilbo asked now. “You brought him home. That’s even better.”

There was a short, pregnant pause, before Bofur huffed a sigh.

“I’ll go make a cup of tea then, huh? Give you two a little privacy,” he added in a mumble, words fading as he walked off.

“Ah, I can,” Thorin gestured aimlessly behind him now, “go if you-” Bilbo cut him off by reaching up and grabbing the lapels of his jacket and yanking him down into a kiss. It was an effective tactic, it had to be said. His lips tasted soft and salty. Thorin moved in to deepen the kiss, but Bilbo put a stop to it.

“Ugh,” he pulled away now, looking embarrassed. “I’m a mess.”

Thorin smiled and pulled a tissue from his pocket. “You’re just fine.”

“You’re awful prepared, aren’t you?” Bilbo commented dryly, taking the tissue.

“Comes with living with two young boys. That and being able to run on two hours sleep.”

Bilbo laughed. “Useful abilities,” he wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “I’m sorry about all the…” he gestured to his face as if that explained everything, “the blubbering,” he clarified. “It seems silly, but he’s the only family I have.” There was nothing silly about it at all. Thorin probably would have been blubbering too if it were a member of his family. Okay, maybe not blubbering. He didn’t do that sort of thing.

He cried in a manly way, completely masculine that had nothing to do at all with blubbering.  Admittedly, though, he had blubbered when his sister died, but not since then. It was kind of nice being around someone like Bilbo, in that manner. Someone who’s every emotion showed on their face. He liked it.

“Did you want to stay a while?” Bilbo queried, waving towards the kitchen. “Have a coffee? I have tea, if you like that sort of thing.”

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Even if he didn’t want to. “They’re searching the room of the man Bofur was with and I’d like to see what they found.” He was certain they wouldn’t come up empty handed.

“Ah,” Bilbo looked a little disappointed, which was almost enough to get Thorin to backtrack completely and offer to stay. But he had work, and both the boys were waiting for him to come home and attempt another culinary disaster for dinner, so he had to leave. But not before a few more kisses, of course. At least until Bofur came back and complained that Bilbo’s tea was getting cold.

“I’ll call you,” Bilbo had promised. “Interrogate you about what you found in the man’s hotel room.”

He didn’t call that night, though. But Thorin did see him the next morning and once the boys were out of ear shot and running to their classrooms he informed Bilbo that a large amount of meth amphetamine had been found in Smaug’s bags.

Bilbo seemed a little unimpressed. “That seems a bit clumsy. You’d think he’d be smart enough to put them somewhere a little more creative.”

“You’d be surprised at the stupid places people hide their drugs.” Thorin had replied. “But Smaug will be put away for a while, I’m told. Apparently he’s been under investigation for a while. Smuggling and human trafficking and that sort of thing.”

Bilbo had shivered, clearly thinking about Bofur. “How dreadful.”

The next few weeks had passed in a blur, and all of a sudden it was getting cooler again.

“Unbelievable,” Balin had glared balefully at the sky one afternoon at the end of August when Thorin had come to pick the boys up after work. “Before you know it we’ll be rugging up again and going Ice Skating and drinking hot chocolate and talking about bloody Thanksgiving and Christmas.” Balin hated the last few months of the year. “ _Too many holidays_ ,” He’d always complained. “ _Too many family gatherings_.”

“Could be worse,” Thorin mused. “And you don’t have to spend every Christmas with my family.”

“Well, I have no idea why, but we still do it anyway. Though the noise is nice. Christmas is for kids,” he gestured at the boys playing out front of the house now, “waking up early and ripping presents open. It’s nicer when there’s young ones involved.”

“It is,” Thorin agreed. “But you don’t have to worry about that for some months to come.” He reminded Balin. “So I wouldn’t get too anxious about the holiday season just yet.”

“You’d better get bloody anxious now.” Balin called after him as they went inside. “Do it all now or else you won’t do it until Christmas Eve!”

Thorin laughed, because he knew Balin was right.

Bilbo called him early the next morning, sounding slightly apprehensive.

“Are you busy?” He asked, sounding hesitant. “I mean, you and the boys,” he explained, “I’d like to show you something.”

Thorin glanced at the boys; half sleep in their bowls of crappy breakfast cereal. “We’re not busy at all.”

He could hear Bilbo’s smile in his words. “Great. I’ll come over and pick you guys up. An hour okay?”

“Sure. We’ll be ready by then.”

The boys were practically vibrating with excitement. “Where do you think he’s taking us?” Fili asked. “Do you think it’s something important?”

“I’ve no idea Fili.” Thorin replied gently. “Where are you and your brother’s water bottles?”

“I’ve got both.” Fili answered immediately, shrugging his shoulder to bring his bag to Thorin’s attention.

“Good.” _You ready?_ He signed to Kili.

Kili grinned and nodded. _Ready, ready, ready_. He signed enthusiastically.

Bilbo honked when he pulled up, and grinned when he saw Fili and Kili bounding ardently to the car while Thorin locked the house up. “Where are we going? Where are we going?” Fili was demanding as he clicked his brother into the seat belt before working on his own.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Bilbo promised as Thorin slipped into the passenger side. “Do you mind holding this for me?” He asked, waving the flowers gently at Thorin.

“Uh… sure,” Thorin took them, knowing very well he looked completely baffled by them.

 _Flowers?_ Kili signed, looking curiously at them.

 _You’ll see soon_. Bilbo promised before beginning to drive again.

It didn’t take them long to get where they were going- Bilbo only drove to a place a few towns over, and parked in front of a cemetery.

“Why are we here?” Fili asked.

“There’s someone I want to introduce you to.” Bilbo informed them with a small smile. He was watching Thorin carefully, as if gauging his reaction, asking if this was okay.

“Come on,” Thorin said instead of a real answer, opening the door. “Let’s get moving.”

The tombstones were in the newer section of the cemetery, right at the end. There were dying flowers there already, and Thorin didn’t have to ask to know that they were Bilbo’s from his last visit.

Bilbo cleared his throat and turned to face Thorin, looking nervous. “This is okay, isn’t it?” He asked, looking a little urgent. “I was just going to ask you, but I wanted the boys to be here, too, and Kili’s always asking about my parents.” He avoided Thorin’s gaze and looked down at his feet, shuffling awkwardly.

Thorin smiled and simply nodded. He loved the fact that Bilbo had not only brought him along, but Fili and Kili as well. Because they were such a big part of Thorin’s life that he knew he couldn’t be with anyone who didn’t accept that. But it wasn’t a problem with Bilbo, of course it wasn’t. Bilbo was… well, he was Bilbo.

“I mean,” Bilbo continued, “I wanted you to meet them, and I wanted _them_ to meet you, and…”

Thorin took his hand. “Bilbo, I would love to meet your parents.”

Relief washed over his features and Bilbo smiled then. “Good.” He pulled him forward a little more.

“Guys,” he said, letting go of Thorin’s hand to sign. “These are my parents.” He gestured to the tombstones. “Mom, dad, this is Thorin and Fili and Kili. You remember I told you about them last time I was here.”

Thorin felt a little twinge in his chest at that, but Bilbo was smiling and looked on the graves with such fondness. Thorin wasn’t sure if that made things worse or better.

 _Did you want to put the flowers down for me, Kili_? Bilbo signed.

Kili gingerly set the flowers between the stones. _Is this okay?_

 _It’s perfect._ Bilbo spoke for a little while longer, mentioning little things. Like Thorin bringing Bofur back, or Kili’s newfound love for turtles. After they let the boys run off, darting around the trees while they sat on the seats at the gazebo nearby.

“My mom was deaf.” Bilbo explained, leaning back in his seat and smiling softly. “My father met her in college. Fell in love with her instantly, he always said. Went straight to the library and got every book on sign language they had and tried to learn it all in a week.” He laughed. “He was never very good at it. Mom always used to tell me he got his words mixed up in nervousness asked her if she liked bacon by accident when he tried to ask her to marry him.”

“How’d they die?”

“Fire.” Bilbo replied simply, looking over in the direction of their graves. “Big one. Some sort of faulty wiring. I was staying at a friend’s house when it happened. I went to a lot of different houses after that. You know, foster care. And then I studied and when I finished I thought that maybe I should try and come back close to home. So,” he gave a shrug, “I came back.” His face twisted into that pleasant smile once more that Thorin was so fond of seeing. “It was certainly a good choice, if I say so myself.”  He had to agree with Bilbo there. “We should go.” Bilbo sighed now. “I’m not sure letting the boys play in a cemetery is the best idea.”

Thorin glanced over at them now, watching them attempt to claw their way up the tree. “You’re probably right. That looks like an accident just waiting to happen.”

“Everything is an accident waiting to happen with children.” Bilbo replied as they got to their feet.

The ride back was mostly quiet, save for Fili asking a few more questions on his and his brother’s behalf about Bilbo’s parents.

 _Ice cream?_ Thorin signed as they got to the outskirts of town, and both boys crooned excitedly.

Bilbo parked out front of his house and they walked, mainly because it was, of course, the healthy thing to do, but also because the parking at the ice cream place was absolutely dreadful. They bought double scoops and sat out on the grass in the empty lot across the road, pointing out strange shapes of the clouds in the sky. It reminded Thorin of when he was young and Thrain used to sit him down out the back of the house and argue with his grandfather over what the clouds would look like. Thorin had always thought the both of them were wrong. _Really, how could that possibly look like a duck or a dolphin when it was clearly a pterosaur?_

The boys fell asleep for a few minutes, fed and fettered and having slipped into something of a food coma. Bilbo had dozed off against Thorin’s shoulder for a moment before jolting back awake with red spreading over his cheeks. “We should get them home.” Thorin liked the way that sounded coming from Bilbo. Like it was his home as well, like they could take the boys back and play in the backyard or watch television or just curl up on the sofa and listen to Bilbo read to them all, Thorin included. The idea made Thorin ache in a way he’d never experienced for another person before. Sure, he’d experienced lust and want and even love before, but he’d never felt this sort of longing. It was both utterly alarming and completely warming, both confusing but perfect. He wanted Bilbo as part of the family. And yes, he was family now. But it wasn’t the way Thorin _wanted_ it to be. He supposed that part came later, after years of familiarity and intimacy.

But Thorin was an impatient man, it ran in the family, and he wanted it all now.

Bilbo made move to get up, to wake the boys and ruin the moment, ruin Thorin’s private little fantasy, so Thorin simply took hold of his shirt and held him still, angling his head down and kissing him. It was awkward, and a little painful, but Thorin ignored the kink in his neck and the way his arm ached from leaning on it. Fili groaned in his sleep, fitfully kicking out, and landed a blow solidly on Thorin’s shin. Thorin pulled away, a furrow on his brow and a sigh on his lips, but he thought that even if he did have hid fantasy, the permanent family he wanted, he and Bilbo would still never really have a private moment to themselves, so it was fine.

He woke the grumbling boys up with a smile.

**

“We’ve got a problem.” Dwalin said in lieu of a proper greeting when he walked into work.

Thorin shrugged out of his jacket and set it down on his chair. “Which is?”

“Frerin’s in love again.”

Thorin groaned. “Who is it this time?”

“No clue. Just got a text from Dain, and a concerned call from your mother.”

“She didn’t think to call me?”

“Dain told her that you were spendin’ time with your squeeze, and she decided it was best not to bother you.” Dwalin informed him with a grin.

Thorin heaved a sigh. “So he’s in love,” he said, bringing to conversation back to its proper subject, “it’s annoying for the rest of us, but it’s harmless. Well, up until the moment he breaks her heart or she breaks his.”

But Dwalin was already shaking his head. “Dain said this is different.”

“Different how?” he wondered.

Dwalin’s face was grim. “He’s been givin’ her money.”

Thorin pressed his hands to his face. “Oh, God.”

“Ditto to that.”

“Are we staging a family intervention?”

“Nah,” Dwalin shrugged, “didn’t work out too well last time we tried that. You remember, with Ianto and his fuckin’ accents. He just got drunk and ran up and down the road singing Danny Boy in that terrible Irish accent.”

“Yeah,” Dwalin was right, family interventions didn’t do jack shit. “But Dain suggested something good.”

“Did he?” Dain with a good suggestion? That was a new one.

“Yeah, he said Frerin should come down here for a few weeks. Get away from her for a while. Then he’d probably come to his senses and realize she’s a money sucking-”

“I don’t want to hear the end of that sentence, do I?”

“- _wench_.” Dwalin finished innocently, looking much too smug. “So, you think it’s a good idea?”

“He’s only going to sit on my couch for the whole time he’s there, watching Game of Thrones in his underwear, teaching Fili and Kili swearwords I’ve never even heard of.”

“But  just think,” Dwalin informed him, “he’ll be concentrating all his energy on making your life a living hell that he’ll forget completely about his gold digging girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a choice in this, do I?” Thorin grumbled now.

“Not really, no.”

“Then I’ll say yes now so I can avoid being harassed by the rest of the family.”

Dwalin grinned, “Unlikely that you’ll be able to avoid that.”

Once again, Dwalin was completely right. And a complete pain in the ass. Because what he forgot to mention was that the plan not only consisted of just Frerin coming down, but also his parents and even Dain, who somehow managed to get a week off of work.

And Thorin wondered where Fili and Kili got their nosy personalities from.

“Kill me,” he groaned into the phone when Bilbo answered later that night.

Bilbo laughed. “My, that’s hardly the kind of greeting I’m used to when picking up the phone.”

“Should I have said something sexy?”

“I think you’re too awkward for sexy. Especially over the phone. And I’m too awkward to listen to it.”

Thorin couldn’t deny it. He was clearly lacking in sexy when it came to phone conversations. “It’s not a good idea anyway. I have an audience who’s pretending to watch the television,” he ended the sentence louder, calling to the boys who were, very obviously, eavesdropping on the conversation.

Bilbo laughed. “Ah, I see. Certainly not the right time for that kind of conversation, then. Why don’t you tell me why you want me to kill you, then?”

So Thorin explained his predicament. Frerin’s problem with falling in love too easily and giving away all his money to a complete stranger. Dain’s ridiculous idea and Thorin agreeing to it without actually thinking it over properly.

“But it’s not all that bad.” Bilbo told him when he was done. “You get to see your family. And you’ll have some people to babysit the boys when you work.” Thorin supposed that was helpful. “And I’m sure at least one of them can cook dinner better than you can, so that’s a plus right there.”

“Rude,” Thorin sniffed as Bilbo laughed.

“Maybe I’m just a little biased,” Bilbo said now, “I am rather curious about your family. It’ll be nice to meet them finally, I’m always hearing things from Fili and Kili and-”

“You want to _meet_ them?” Thorin managed to splutter out. Of course Bilbo was going to meet them. It was highly unlikely he wouldn’t meet them while they were here.

Bilbo laughed again. A bright, bubbly sound. “Of course I do! Should I not?”

“Well, I don’t know. They’re a bit…” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, but he was pretty sure Bilbo understood.

“Thorin, everyone’s family is a little bit…” he made the same vague noise Thorin had. “It’s completely normal.”

“I’m going to be forced onto the couch for the entirety of their stay,” he groused, running a hand over his face.

“You could always just stay over here.” Bilbo was joking of course, but the suggestion was enough to leave Thorin trying to push the thought of sleeping in Bilbo’s bed out of his mind. Nice, but certainly not helpful.

“I think if I go there I might be tempted to not come back.” He said instead of what he really wanted, which was something along the lines of: ‘ _if you invite me over I swear to God we won’t leave your bed for at least a week_ ’. The scribbling of a marker over paper caught his ears. “What are you doing?”

“Marking the short stories I had the kids write today.”

“What did Kili write about?” he wondered.

“The death of Caesar,” Bilbo paused. “Although,” he continued, “he doesn’t actually _say_ Caesar, I’ll admit that was a bit of a guess. But he does refer to him as ‘That Roman Salad Guy’.”

Thorin snorted. “Christ.”

“It’s… a very informative story.”

“I can only imagine.”

He could hear Bilbo laugh softly. “You should get to bed. It’s late, and I’m pretty sure I can hear the boys changing the channel to Jersey Shore.”

Thorin looked up. “Fili!” He scolded.

Fili and Kili grinned and ducked their heads down somewhat sheepishly. He hung up on Bilbo, who was laughing still, and walked into the living room. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t watch this garbage and in exchange I’d let you have Ice Cream three nights a week instead of two.”

“Maybe we want four nights instead of three.” Fili declared, signing so Kili could grin at him.

“Then you’d probably have diabetes. You eat enough Ice Cream as it is. Now, come on, bed time.”

Kili didn’t need him to sign to know what he’d just said. They both whined, and Thorin ended up having to carry them both, one over each shoulder, up the stairs and into their room.

 _Uncle Frerin is coming down?_ Kili asked as they snuggled into their beds, teeth finally brushed and pyjamas finally on. Thorin nodded. _And Grandma and Grandpa?_

 _And cousin Dain, too_. Fili added.

Kili grinned toothily. _Awesome_.

 _Sleep._ Thorin ordered them both before switching out the light and going into his own room.

And later, when he was locking up in the house, if he saw the light on again underneath the door so the boys could talk late into the night like they usually did, then he didn’t say anything.

**

Fili and Kili didn’t want to go to school on the day that they were due to arrive, but Thorin made them anyway, ignoring their attempts to convince him otherwise. He’d swapped  his day shift at work for a graveyard one tonight, which he’d probably regret tomorrow, when he had to get up early again for another regular shift, but at least he’d be able to let them in the house this way.

Not that he was sure he wanted to. In fact, maybe he’d just leave the door locked and make them go to a hotel.

He’d been trying not to think about his family like that these past few weeks. Mainly because every time he complained about them o Bilbo, he’d get this sad look on his face and then Thorin would wind up feeling insanely guilty, but also because he was trying to actually be nice to people, which was a new one for him. Durin’s were not known for their niceness.

Which is why when Frerin greeted him at the door, instead of a simple ‘Hello, nice to see you’, he said: “You look like shit.”

“As do you,” he replied gruffly.

Dain made a cooing noise. “Look how much they love each other,” he stepped between them and pinched Thorin’s cheeks, which was pretty brave of him, it had to be said. “You’d better have coffee on or something, because I am dying from the ride over.”

“I don’t see why you didn’t just take a plane- Hello, mom.” She’d wound her arms around him while he’d been talking and his greeting was now muffled in her shoulder.

“Planes are so expensive, dear,” she said, flattening his hair. “And you know Thrain doesn’t like flying.” Thrain was grumbling something to his shoes in the living room now.

“You got a new sofa.” He commented when Thorin came to stand beside him. The sofa was actually three years old, and they’d had this exact conversation when the family had come to visit after he’d bought it.

“Do you want a coffee, dad?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, thanks.”

Thorin put a hand on Thrain’s arm and led him to the seat. “Why don’t you take a seat with mom and I’ll bring it in for you?”

“Thank you, daring.” His mother smiled at him before turning her attention back to her husband.

Dain followed him into the kitchen. “He was talking about his shoes the entire ride up here. Almost had a panic attack because he was sure he put his black ones on but he’s wearing his brown ones.”

Thorin glanced back into the living room. “How’s mom dealing?”

Dain shrugged. “Well, I suppose. Or maybe not. You can never tell with her.”

Thorin pursed his lips, finally looking away from them and back to his cousin. “She doesn’t like appearing weak.”

Dain hummed an agreement and helped Thorin get cups.

“Dwalin told me you have a new girlfriend.” He told Frerin when they brought the coffee back into the living room.

Frerin groaned, exasperated. “Not you too.”

“I was just asking about her.”

“No, you were going to badger me about how I always rush into relationships and how it always ends badly.”

“No,” Thorin assured him, “you already know that. Besides, I’m allowed to torture you about it because you’d do the same to me.” _Did_ the same.

Frerin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m already on Kumbaya camp with the family, what else do you lot want?”

“For the camp not to be in my house?” Thorin suggested, earning a snort from Dain and a sharp look from his mother.

“Well, seeing as we’re already talking about partners, where’s your lovely little teacher friend?”

“Teaching,” Thorin replied, grabbing his cup, “Obviously.”

“Your friend at the station has been telling me all about him.” His mother informed him.

“I’m aware,” he gave her a pointed glare. “If you wanted to know you could have just asked me instead of harassing my work colleagues.”

“She was eager to answer, I wasn’t harassing anyone.” She insisted.

“And you wouldn’t tell us anything,” Dain added, “so we had to get a little creative.”

“You could have just kept your nose out of my business.”

“Thorin!” His mother scolded. “Don’t speak to your family like that.”

Frerin was wearing a smug smile.

“Yes, well, it’s true.” Thorin continued. “And maybe Bilbo doesn’t want you to know about him, ever think of that?”

“He said that?” Dain’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with us?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Oh, ha-ha. And I know for a fact Bilbo didn’t say that,” Frerin informed them all, “Fili and Kili have been telling me he’s eager to meet us.”

“Oh, how nice,” his mother smiled. “The boys certainly are fond of him.”

“Must run in the family,” Dain said, jerking his chin at Thorin.

“You lot are fucking incorrigible.” Thorin grumbled in reply. His father laughed as his mother scolded him for his language.

**

Thorin prided himself on his ability to keep his family away from Bilbo for the next few days, and was certain he’d be able to go the last few days of the week the same way, but the weekend was hard. Fili and Kili kept suggesting they invite him over for dinner or lunch, and were even going to take them over there one afternoon while Thorin was working. He’d come home early to find them all with their shoes and jackets on, just about ready to leave.

It wasn’t like he was embarrassed of Bilbo, God no. And it wasn’t like he was embarrassed by his family… okay, well, maybe just a little. But they had this dreadful habit of chasing off potential partners, and not only on Thorin’s side. Frerin’s last girlfriend had gotten an earful from Grandma Eva when she’d been invited around to the Fourth of July barbeque. And then the food had burnt and the barbeque had almost blown up in her face. Fili had spilt red cordial all over her white dress and then she’d tripped over Kili, who’d been playing on the grass just behind her. Although Thorin was sure that wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

Needless to say, when his family wanted to, they could easily run someone out of town. Though he was certain they’d like Bilbo, he sure as hell wasn’t going to risk it just yet. And he’d been doing a damn good job of that so far.

Up until Sunday, of course. Dain and his parents were due to leave the following day, even though Frerin had decided to stay a little longer (mainly to avoid another car ride with them). The sky had darkened and opened up with rain, and outside the wind howled, so they didn’t go out like they’d planned. Instead they stayed inside, and bickered over Scrabble and Cluedo and cleared out what little food had been left in Thorin’s pantry.

There’d been a frantic knock at his door around one, and he could tell who it was from the kitchen without having to look out the window.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, thank you so much,” Bilbo babbled, coming inside. “I’m so sorry, I’m dripping all over the floor…”

Thorin came into the living room to find Bilbo, soaking wet and shivering. “What happened to you?”

“I was going to meet Ori for tea but my car broke down and you were just up the road and-”

“Why don’t we get you a towel, dear.” His mother put her hands on Bilbo’s shoulders and led him towards the stairs. “Bathroom is down the hall, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Thorin said, waving her off, “could you finish the coffee? I think he’ll need a cup.”

He could hear the whispers as he led Bilbo up the stairs. “I’m sorry,” Bilbo said again, “I could have gone to Balin’s, I suppose, next door, but-”

“It’s alright,” Thorin sat him down on the edge of the bath and fished a fresh towel out of the cupboard. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

Bilbo laughed. “I doubt I’ll fit into anything of yours.”

Thorin just rolled his eyes. “Just dry yourself.” He ordered. “I don’t need another replay of the ice incident.”

“Oh, that was dreadful.” He heard Bilbo murmur. He went into his room, grabbing an old college shirt before returning to the bathroom to find Fili and Kili giggling and drying Bilbo’s hair.

“My, you’re very skilled at this.” Bilbo was telling Fili, voice muffled by the towel.

“We have lots of practice.” Fili informed him proudly before yanking away the towel to reveal Bilbo’s hair standing up ad odd angles. Both boys laughed.

“What?” Bilbo wondered, signing his words. “Is something wrong with my hair?”

Fili grinned mischievously and shook his head in unison with his brother.

“Alright, you two,” Thorin told them both, “get out of here.” The boys laughed again before running out. “You need a hairbrush?”

He glanced at himself in the mirror. “Oh no,” Bilbo informed him with a smile, “I rather like it. I think I’ll wear it like this all the time.”

“Here,” Thorin offered him the shirt, “You won’t fit any of my pants.”

“They’re not that wet anyway,” Bilbo replied, pulling at the slightly damp denim. “I should have brought an umbrella,” he sighed, unbuttoning his shirt. “But I thought that I’d be fine in the car, and it’s only a short dash to Ori’s front door.”

Thorin made a vague noise, more than a little distracted by the show of skin. Bilbo grinned, cheeks reddening a little. “Should I have asked you to turn around?” he wondered, slipping on Thorin’s shirt. It looked good on him.

Thorin cleared his throat. “I probably should have done it anyway…”

“Oh, but you wanted a perv,” Bilbo teased, coming closer and leaning up to press their lips together. “A police officer and a Peeping Tom,” Bilbo clicked his tongue, “what would people say if they knew?”

“Probably plenty,” Thorin replied, wrapping his hands round Bilbo’s waist. “But I vote we don’t tell them- they already have enough to say as it is.”

Bilbo laughed before pulling away. “We’d better go back downstairs, lest they think we’re doing something we shouldn’t.”

Thorin wanted to add that he’d very much like to be doing something he shouldn’t, but instead he just followed Bilbo out of the bathroom and back down the stairs.

“I’ll put this in the drier for you,” he said as they reached the bottom, “it’ll be done in half an hour, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Well,” Bilbo checked his watch. “I’m already late, so I might as well stay a little longer. Could I use your phone to call Ori? Mine’s on the fritz.”

“Sure,” he managed.

“It’s over here, Bilbo!” Fili announced, jumping to his feet and rushing into the kitchen. “See?”

Bilbo smiled softly, following him. “Thank you, Fili.”

Thorin went into the laundry to put Bilbo’s shirt in the drier.

“He’s cute.” Dain’s voice came from nowhere, making him jump. “They like him already and he hasn’t really even said anything.”

Thorin huffed a sigh and leant against the machine as it began to work. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour for the next half an hour.”

“Of course,” Dain put on his best innocent face, raising his hands up in a gesture of goodwill. “Completely and utterly.”

Thorin didn’t believe it for one second.

**

“They’re nice,” Bilbo said as Thorin drove him to Ori’s later that afternoon. “I don’t know why you were so worried.”

“Are you kidding me?” Thorin asked now. “We were experiencing the same thing, weren’t we?”

“Well, so they were a little nosy,” Bilbo shrugged, “everyone’s nosy.”

“Yeah, well, it could have been worse, I guess.”

“At least nothing was set on fire.” He informed Thorin helpfully now. “Or anyone falling through ice and almost freezing to death.”

Thorin felt his lips twitch into a smile. “I suppose so.”

“So… crisis averted?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin pulled up in front of Ori’s house. “Crisis averted.” He agreed.

“Good,” he cracked the door open and stuck a foot out, making a face at the rain that was still pouring. “Better make a dash for it, don’t want to get too soaked again. But I’ll- I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Thorin’s smile widened. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good.” He made move to get out of the car, but at the last second made a noise and turned back around, as if having forgotten something. He leant across the small space, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to Thorin’s lips before jumping out and darting to the door.

**

It was late one Thursday night some time later that Thorin came home to find Bilbo sitting in his kitchen, listening avidly to whatever Frerin was telling him and eating something that smelled absolutely delicious.

“Hey!” Frerin grinned when he entered the kitchen. “Look who’s here. I made Chicken Parmesan.”

“It’s delicious.” Bilbo assured him, as if he needed assurances.

Thorin just nodded, slipping off his jacket and setting it down on one of the seats.

It all seemed so… _homey_ , the food and the conversation, and it should be a good thing that his brother was getting along with his boyfriend, but it really wasn’t.

He was _not_ jealous. And even if he was, he’d never admit it.

“Looks good.” He said, peering over the oven and into one of the pots. “This all for me?”

Frerin gave a nod. “Thought I’d do something to repay you for letting me freeload on your couch, and you can barely feed yourself anyway, so…” he just shrugged.

“Right,” he sounded just the way he was feeling. Unimpressed.

“Well, uh,” Frerin cleared his throat, “I’ll give you two some privacy. I’d better get a shower in before bed anyway.”

Bilbo looked cautious. “Everything okay?” he wondered when Frerin left them alone, getting to his feet and moving over.

Thorin relaxed instantly when he pressed a soft hand against his back. “Yeah, yeah,” he ran a hand over his face. “Stressful day.”

“Well,” Bilbo moved closer, hands sliding up so he could wrap his arms around Thorin’s neck, “maybe I can help with that.”

Thorin hummed in agreement, bending down and-

And Kili walked into the kitchen.

 _Sorry_. He sighed, looking not the least bit guilty. _I wanted a drink._

Thorin sighed, obliging by grabbing a glass from the cupboards and filling it with water from the tap.

 _Will you read to us?_ Kili asked before taking the glass from him.

_Yes. I’ll be up there soon._

Kili nodded and started back for his bedroom.

“Listen,” Bilbo said now, gently, as they watched Kili trample back up the stairs. “I was talking to Frerin and he said that he’s fine for looking after the boys for a night, in case we wanted to go out. So I was thinking… tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” Thorin nodded, “I’d like that.” _A lot_.

Bilbo grinned, and kissed him again softly. “I’d better get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll pick you up,” Thorin replied, grabbing hold of his hand, wanting him to stay longer.

Bilbo laughed and slipped from his grip. “Alright. Eat your Chicken Parmesan,” he ordered as he stepped out the front door. “It’s good.”

It was actually very good, and he was certain Frerin had just bought one of those precooked meal from the shop and just reheated it when he got home.

**

Thorin wasn’t all that sure that Frerin was equipped to babysit young boys, and he was certain they’d be up most of the night, watching unsuitable television and inhaling bowls of sugar. But he was already on his way out the door, so even though he knew Frerin’s assurances that yes, he would get the kids to be don time and yes, he’d make sure they ate all their vegetables, were complete and utter bullshit. But he was late, so he didn’t call him out on them.

Instead he rushed and (admittedly) sped to Bilbo’s house, knowing he was certainly not on time. He stayed to a reasonable speed, however. He didn’t think it’d be very good for his image if he got arrested by one of his co-workers.

“I’m late.” He said as soon as Bilbo opened the door.

“You’re late.” Bilbo agreed, looking amused. “Where are we going?”

“McDonalds.” Thorin deadpanned, and Bilbo burst into peals of laughter.

“Of course we are,” he said, grabbing his coat and stepping out the door. “Come on, Prince Charming, we’d better get there before all the Big Mac’s go.”

They went to that new Thai place, the one with the weird fishtanks in the walls. Thorin spent a fair amount of time frowning at the sad looking fish behind Bilbo, idly swimming back and forth.

“How do they feed them?” He asked, looking for some sort of crack in the wall. He couldn’t see anything.

“Maybe there’s a bit of space above it on the other side of the wall?” Bilbo suggested, looking up from his menu and over his shoulder. “You’re the police officer, you find it out.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “How was work?”

Bilbo shrugged, setting the menu down fully now. “Exhausting, as usual. You?”

“It was pretty quiet,” he replied. “Almost had to arrest the eldest Ri brother today for getting into an argument with another shopper at Walmart.”

“Dori?” Bilbo snorted into his drink.

“Yeah.”

"What were they fighting about?"

Thorin just rolled his eyes. "Something to do with the hiking trails in the forest."

The waitress came by to take their order after that, and Bilbo told him about Kili declaring at school that he liked Frerin’s cooking better than Thorin’s.

“That’s not fair.” Thorin had argued. “No one’s ever actually tasted my food, because it’s always been burnt, so…”

“I’m sure that beneath the ashen taste is a wonderful combination of flavours,” Bilbo assured him teasingly. “But it is good that Frerin’s here to help you with the boys. I think,” he said, only pausing for a moment, as if unsure, “that it’s good for him to have something to take up his time right now.”

“That was sort of the plan.”

“I, uh, talked to him about his girlfriend.” Bilbo said casually before taking a sip of his drink.

Thorin felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. “You did?” Frerin had refused to talk about her at all with him.

Bilbo looked up at him guiltily. “I talked to him about the money too. That was okay, wasn’t it?”

“What did he say?”

Bilbo shrugged. “He said it’s not as bad as you’re all making it out to be, and I suggested that maybe he should just wait until he knew her a little better before giving her anymore money, because she might just see him as an easy cash and grab, and he seemed to find the idea agreeable.”

“Unbelievable,” Thorin muttered.

“Should I not have said anything?” Bilbo asked, face falling.

“No,” the look on his face had Thorin backtracking quickly. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, _no_ I didn’t mean it like that.” Bilbo’s face clouded over with confusion and Thorin let out a huff. “ _I mean_ ,” he said again, “no, I wasn’t saying that to your talking to him. I thought it as unbelievable that he just agreed with you straight away, even though you were saying the same thing we’d all been saying to him for the past week and a half.”

Bilbo visibly relaxed. “Well, maybe it’s the way it was said.” He suggested now. “Or maybe he just needed to hear it from someone who wasn’t family.”

“You’re family.” Thorin said instantly, without thinking. He winced, wondering if he’d just fucked up. After all, they hadn’t even known each other that long. “Uh…”

But Bilbo just smiled, looking pleased with the statement. “I’ve never really had a family before.” He mused now. “It’s just been me and Bofur, and he’s only been with me for a few months. I’ve known him for longer, of course, but we’ve never been as close as we are now.”

“You deserve a family.” If anyone did, it was certainly Bilbo. He never got what Thorin had had all his life, something he’d just assumed everyone had. Up until Dis had died.

Bilbo glanced down at his hands. “Thanks.”

The night had suddenly taken a rather depressing turn, and Thorin wasn’t sure how to bring it back.

The food came then, breaking up a potentially awkward moment, and they concentrated on their food, travelling over mundane, safe topics for the rest of the night.

Because if they’d continued talking the way they had been before, then Thorin would say something stupid. Like how he loved him, even though they’d only known each other for eight or so months, and had been together for even less time than that. Or that he’d been quite obsessed with him since he’d first seen him, which seemed like an even worse thing to say.

There was silence during the ride back to Bilbo’s house, but it was a nice, amicable silence. A comfortable silence.

“You want to come in for coffee?” Bilbo asked him as he pulled onto his street. “Or, I suppose, a non-caffeinated drink. We don’t want you bouncing off the walls all night, unable to sleep.”

Thorin bit back his first few responses. Many of them having something to do with how he’d like to do a completely different kind of bouncing, and he wouldn’t mind if he missed out on a bit of sleep for it. “Sure,” he settled on eventually, pulling up in Bilbo’s drive and killing the engine.

He’d never actually seen the inside of Bilbo’s house, and the times he’d drive by he hadn’t really paid much attention.

It was comfortably furnished with lots of cushy, well used furniture and the walls were almost completely covered with photos and posters and pictures obviously from his students. There were a lot of arts and craft things lying about, which he shouldn’t have been surprised by. He did teach young children after all.

“I should have, uh, cleaned up a little…” Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, seeming embarrassed. “But, you know, I get so busy that I just leave it until it’s so piled up that I’m forced to clean it.”

“I live with two young boys,” Thorin assured him, “believe me. This is _not_ messy.”

“I guess I have to agree with you there. I mean, Kili just likes to shove things under his bed. Fili told me the other day he found an old sandwich under there once.”

Thorin closed his eyes, repressing a groan. “Of course he did.”

Bilbo laughed, and then leaned up to kiss him. It was definitely something Thorin was liking getting used to, the kisses. And they always came at surprising times.

He angled his head to the side, deepening the kiss, and grabbed hold of Bilbo’s waist to pull them closer together. He nuzzled at him, shuffling forwards until Bilbo’s back hit the wall and he could crowd him even further. His hands wandered of their own volition, sneaking up the edge of his shirt and tracing soft skin up Bilbo’s back and along his sides. Thorin didn’t even remember where their jackets had gone, or when he’d began to unbutton Bilbo’ shirt. He got halfway down, fumbling with the frustrating things, before groaning in exasperation and just tearing the thing off, throwing it behind him.

“We should, uh-?” he broke off with a vague gesture down the hall.

“Yeah,” Bilbo nodded quickly, “just down here.” He pushed at Thorin’s chest a little so he had the space to move. Then, after leading him down the hall and into his bedroom, he tugged at Thorin’s shirt, pulling him towards the bed.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to…” He was saying.

Thorin just snorted. “Are you kidding me?”

“Well, I wanted to be sure that we’re both, you know, on the same page and everything.” Bilbo said, rambling a little while he unbuttoned Thorin’s shirt. Thorin shouldn’t have been surprised that Bilbo was a talker, even when they were preoccupied with taking each other’s clothes off.

His hand stilled when it reached the button on Thorin’s trousers. “Is this okay?” He asked, looking hesitant.

“You’re really asking me if I’m okay with you taking my pants off?” he raised an eyebrow.

Bilbo grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he replied cheekily, popping the button and unzipping with an infuriating patience. Thorin growled some sort of curse word, he wasn’t really concerned with which one, and Bilbo laughed. “Someone is certainly impatient.” He commented when Thorin gave up on waiting and started to yank off Bilbo’s undershirt and pushed him backwards roughly, letting him fall onto the bed before impatiently pulling Bilbo’s jeans off and shucking his own now too-tight ones.

Bilbo pulled him down on top of him and caught his lips in a clumsy kiss, almost smacking their foreheads together in his eagerness.

“Sorry,” he uttered, kissing growing softer in apology. “I get a little… overeager sometimes.”

“Overeager is good,” Thorin assured him. “I like overeager.” He yanked down his underwear, desperate to get his hands on him. Bilbo was floored for all of three seconds, before eagerly slipping his own hand down Thorin’s briefs.

Thorin was certain they looked a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, clumsily clutching at each other and kissing like awkward, hormone driven teenagers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest.

And Bilbo, for God’s sake, was still _talking_. His words were no longer really all that comprehensible, but they were still there, breathless little noises that curled in Thorin’s stomach, urging him on.

“You do have condoms, don’t you?” The thought hadn’t really occurred to him until now.

“I certainly don’t think we’re going to get that far.” Was Bilbo’s reply.

“ _Later_ ,” Thorin bit the word out.

Bilbo exhaled heavily, as if in annoyance, but the head of it was lost between moans and whimpers and- _shit_ but he was so responsive.

“Fuck,” Bilbo breathed. “Fuck, I forgot the question.”

Thorin laughed, burying his face into Bilbo’s shoulder and biting into the soft curve of skin there. Bilbo bucked, arching up, hips jerking.

 “ _Oh my fucking God, Thorin_.”

“You sure do like talking, don’t you?” He managed, trying to sound teasing but ending up sounding breathless and gruff.

Bilbo made a sweet whining noise and that was it for Thorin. It hit him like a wave (far earlier than it should have), and he came messily all over Bilbo’s hand and between them. He was slumping already, but that didn’t stop him from working at Bilbo until he was so incoherent his words just sounded like garbled noises. He came, though he was surprisingly quiet when he did so, his mouth falling open on a wordless moan, back arched.

It was nice.

Hell, it was better than _nice_.

It was _fucking amazing_.

He collapsed beside Bilbo on the bed and they laid there for a while, catching their breath. 

“I’m hosting the Fourth of July barbeque next year,” he began casually.

“Yeah?” Bilbo asked breathlessly.

“Yeah. Everyone’s worried.”

He laughed. “Frankly, as am I.”

“You could help,” Thorin added now, “if you’d like.”

His lips slowly spread into a wide smile. “I think you’re going to need it.”

Thorin grinned in reply and pressed down at Bilbo’s mussed hair. “Your hair’s a mess.” He informed him, fondly pushing at the curls.

“It’s always a mess.” Bilbo groaned, running his fingers through it. His face was flushed and his words were still a little breathless. “Like the rest of the house. It’s not my fault, you know,” he rolled onto his side to face Thorin properly, “if Bofur would just help me clean now and again instead of- Oh! Oh, shit!” Bilbo sat up quickly, eyes widening comically.

“What is it?” Thorin asked, still feeling sleepy. That was, of course, until he heard the front door open.

“Oh, what the _fuck_ , Bilbo?!” Came Bofur’s disgusted yell. “If you’re going to screw at least do the polite thing and don’t leave your fucking clothes all over the floor.” Bilbo buried his reddening face into Thorin’s shoulder and giggled.

“Sorry, Bofur!” He called out before diving under the covers. Thorin followed him, delighted that Frerin had the boys tonight, even if that meant they’d eat Ice Cream for dinner.

They never really did get to the coffee that night.

 


	2. One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's another chapter! You guys were super nice about the idea, so I decided to write more. This one isn't as long as the other chapter was (that was about sixty pages long and this one's only a bit over twenty) but it's still pretty big (that's what she said).  
> Anyway, if you see any errors, give me a shout, blah, blah, blah- you guys know the drill.  
> Also, I'm in Australia so my spelling is obviously not American- I have put mom instead of mum, but there are ou's written like in colour, and pyjama instead of pajama or whatever, so just ignore those.

Okay, so he totally did not set the barbeque on fire. He really didn’t.

Okay, so maybe it was a little on fire.

“Uh, Dwalin,” Thorin turned to look at his friend, relaxing on a chair nearby, frowning at the newspaper in his hands.

Dwalin looked up at the fire, then at Thorin, and then back down at his paper. “The standards of journalism ‘ave really gone down recently.” He commented, turning a page.

“Dwalin,” Thorin said again, a little more concerned this time.

It took him a moment to answer. “What?”

Thorin gestured at the barbeque. “A little help?”

He waved a hand vaguely at Thorin in reply. “Nah, you’ve got it.”

 _Got it_? “It’s _on fire_.”

Dwalin shrugged, one big shoulder moving up and down. “I can see that.”

“I don’t even remember where the fire extinguisher is.” He said now, more to himself than to Dwalin, running a hand through his hair.

“Put a blanket over it?” Dwalin suggested lazily, still not bothering to move. “Did you know Myanmar and Burma are the same place?” he looked up at nothing in particular, brow furrowed. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, my God.” Thorin put his hands to his face. “Just get off your ass and help me out here before Bilbo gets back and-”

Too late.

“I’m back!” Thorin heard Bilbo call, the front door slamming closed.

“Damn,” he uttered.

“I got… is that _smoke_?!” he heard something heavy hit the ground and Bilbo’s footsteps, rushing out the back. “What the hell is- Thorin!” he stopped at the back door, taking in the sight. “We _agreed_ that you wouldn’t cook anymore,” he announced, putting his hands on his hips. “You promised.”

“Dwalin didn’t want to help.” Thorin pointed the spatula at him.

“Don’t blame me, Jamie Oliver.” Dwalin announced, folding the paper in half and setting it down. He looked over at them both. “You’re the culinary genius.”

“Okay, can we cut the Sarcasm Competition for just a few moments and _pay attention_ to the _fire that is slowly getting bigger_?!”

“I guess you’re not supposed to put water on it, are you?” Dwalin wondered, still casually lounging a few feet away.

Bilbo groaned in exasperation, rushing back inside to go and find the extinguisher Thorin had misplaced. He returned a few moments later with the thing, putting it out. Then he dropped it, turning to Thorin with that look. The look he gave the kids in his class when they did something wrong, or the look he gave Fili and Kili when they got into Frerin’s bag and brought his nudie mags to school.

“Uh, thanks?” Of course it sounded more like a question than a statement, mainly because Thorin was unsure of what to say.

“You…” Bilbo smacked him on the back of the head.

“Ow! Okay, okay,” he put his hands up now, gesturing for peace, “point taken,” he assured Bilbo. “Thorin = asshole, Bilbo = saviour. Thorin will not make any more attempts at barbequing ever again. Lesson learned.”

Dwalin snorted. “Do you always revert to third person caveman speak when you’re scared?” he asked now, sounding genuinely curious.

Both he and Bilbo shot him a glare.

Dwalin grinned, but relented. “Okay, no more snippy comments, I promise.”

“You’d better. Or maybe I won’t tell Ori that you’re regretting that last fight.”

“Oi,” Dwalin sat up properly now, “I need you on my side on this. Help a man out, he’s not talkin’ to me- I need you here.”

“You aided and abetted an accidental arsonist.” Bilbo pointed at him accusingly. “You ought to be better behaved. Really,” he huffed now, “it’s hard to believe you’re both grown men let alone _police officers_.”

Fili came outside now to see what the ruckus was all about, Kili in hand. “What’s going on?” he wanted to know.

“Nothing,” Bilbo sighed now. “Just Thorin and Dwalin being silly. Isn’t that right?”

Thorin and Dwalin nodded obediently. Fili grinned. “I know that look,” he said, looking delighted. “Bilbo just chewed you through!”

“I-” he cut his sentence off, sighing, “never mind. Why don’t we go inside and get some ice cream, yes?”

Fili nodded eagerly, signing _ice cream_ to his brother, who became just as excited.

Bilbo shot Thorin a stern look before following them inside. _No cooking_ he mouthed.

“Well,” Dwalin announced after he was certain Bilbo was out of hearing range. “I think we know who wears the pants in _your_ relationship.”

“I will throw the fire extinguisher at you.” Thorin intoned darkly.

Dwalin rolled his eyes and sat up straight, craning his neck so he could peer at the burnt meat. “Good thing I like my meat so black it’s basically charcoal.”

“I thought you agreed to no more sarcasm.”

“I t’ought you agreed you weren’t goin’ to cook again- and we both know t’at was a lie.”

Thorin sighed. “I am so screwed.”

**

The kitchen was covered in ice cream by the time he dared to go back inside. Bilbo was just staring at the smears with a mixture of what seemed like lament and frustration.

“You should have seen them in diapers.” Thorin told him from where he stood in the doorway.

Bilbo looked over his shoulder at him. “My holidays usually consist of me _not_ dealing with children. Usually I have a nice long break from screaming and food being thrown, and temper tantrums.” He exhaled loudly. “Oh, and Kili found your condoms. You need a new hiding place.”

Thorin groaned. “How the hell did he get into the cabinet in my bathroom?” he certainly wasn’t tall enough for that. Thorin was perhaps wondering if he should invest in a safe.

“Help, I imagine.” Bilbo commented vaguely, running a hand over his face. He looked a tired as Thorin felt. “Wanna flip a coin for who cleans this up?” he gestured at the mess.

There was a loud thump upstairs, followed by crying.

“I take it back,” Bilbo said now. “You deal with that, I’ll deal with the ice cream.”

Kili looked far too innocent when Thorin found him upstairs. _He fell, I swear._ He signed, looking sheepish.

Fili was sniffling on the bed, holding his knee.

“Show me.” Thorin told him, kneeling in front of him. It was just a scrape, thankfully. No limbs missing or damaged beyond repair. He got a Hello Kitty bandaid from the main bathroom (don’t ask- Kili insisted) and patched it up.

“Thanks, Thorin.” Fili murmured, rubbing his wet eyes.

 _Thanks dad_. Kili signed.

 _Behave._ He signed back, giving them both the sternest look he could muster in his lethargic state. None of them had really slept these past few nights. The heat wave had prevented that.

He hadn’t even had sex in four days, which he had to admit was a new record for him and Bilbo. It was frustrating.

The mess was cleaned when he came back to the kitchen. “Good work,” Thorin said, looking at the spotless cabinets and table. “It’ll be messy again though within five minutes.”

“I know,” Bilbo groaned, leaning against the counter. “Kids are the worst.”

Thorin laughed at him. “You’re right there.”

Dwalin poked his head through the door now. “I’m goin’ to, uh, go for a walk.”

“You mean you’re going to go down the road and spy on Ori.” Bilbo corrected.

For a moment Dwalin looked like he was going to deny it, but he just ended up shrugging.

“Just don’t let him see you stalking him,” Bilbo sighed.  “You’ll only make things worse.”

“Uh, hello?” Dwalin gestured down at himself. “I’m a cop. I t’ink I know 'ow to stalk.”

“Don’t go admitting that out loud too often!” Thorin called after him.

Bilbo yawned. “I could go with a nap,” he sighed now.

Thorin could go for a lot of things, 90% of them not exactly family friendly. “I could go for one, too.” He said instead of mentioning the less-than-appropriate things running through his mind.

“You want to put some water in the bathtub and put our feet in for a while?” he suggested.

“That sounds great,” Thorin agreed, moving for the stairs.

Fili and Kili ended up sitting inside as well, wearing their swimming trunks, while Bilbo and Thorin teetered precariously along the rim of the tub, splashing water at them with their feet.

It seemed to be just what they needed because as soon as they were out, the boys were curled up on the living room couch, sleeping through the afternoon.

Bilbo yawned loudly, looking at them both. “Maybe I should go home. Get my ice packs out of the freezer, cover myself and lie beneath the fan with no clothes on, regardless of whether Bofur complains.”

“You could do that here,” Thorin suggested, before wincing. “No, wait.”

Bilbo laughed. “Not sure that’s the best thing to do in a house with kids.”

“My room has a ceiling fan, you know.” Thorin suggested now, moving closer.

He raised an eyebrow. “I _cannot_ have sex with you right now,” he announced. “You radiate heat.”

Thorin tried not to be too disappointed.

“But,” Bilbo amended after a moment, grabbing hold of Thorin’s shirt. “I will settle for making out with you.”

Thorin could handle that.

**

Dwalin may or may not have caught Ori singing very loudly and badly to Call Me Maybe. Not that either of them would admit it to anyone else.

“You can’t just walk into people’s houses like that!” Ori threw another cushion at him. “I could have been having sex with someone in here for all you knew.”

Dwalin didn’t like that idea, though he was pretty sure he didn’t need to vocalise that thought- Ori could tell.

“You didn’t even knock.” Ori huffed.

“I heard the singin’ and thought that you were bein’ attacked,” Dwalin replied now, without thinking. He tended to do that- snap off stupid remarks. Usually it was fine, but more often than not with Ori it didn’t end well.

Ori threw the last cushion at him, but Dwalin could see he was fighting a smile at the joke. “If you’re trying to win me back that is _no way_ to go about it.” He announced now.

“Fair enough,” Dwalin put his hands up, “I’ll make a note of it: breakin’ and enterin’, not okay.”

Ori did laugh at that, but it broke off into a groan. “You son of a bitch.” He stomped his foot. “You’re not allowed to be funny and charming, okay? Not after a fight. You _know this_.”

They’d had this conversation before. Many times before, in fact.

“Did you want me to say something mean?” Dwalin offered. “I could punch a hole in the wall if you’d like- I know you were thinkin’ about renovating anyway.”

Ori pressed a hand to his mouth to cut off the giggle, his lips twisting upwards. “Now you’re just teasing me,” he murmured through his fingers.

“Well, that’s how it goes, right?” he said now. “I tease you; you kick me out at three in the morning while I’m still in my underwear.”

Ori pulled a face, looking slightly sheepish. “Sorry about that. I suppose I got lost in the heat of the moment. But in my defence, I did throw your pants down at you from the bedroom window.”

“While you were yellin’ at me,” Dwalin added, “yeah.”

“Well, you deserved it.”

 Dwalin didn’t remember what he’d said- probably something stupid. “Never said I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging.

Ori sighed, looking like he was considering something. “Did you want an ice tea?” he offered eventually. “Or, I suppose, I have beer, too, even though it’s only eleven thirty.”

“Eleven thirty is the perfect time for a beer,” Dwalin informed him, feeling relieved.

Ori smiled at him.

**

“So how’s the planning for the Fourth of July barbeque?” his mother cooed into the phone later that week. He was surprised the phone was still working and all, mainly because he was certain the plastic was melting onto the side of his face. He didn’t hang up, though, because the wrath of his mother was far worse than third degree burns on his face.

“It’s alright,” he lied. Well, it wasn’t a _lie_. It was alright. Thorin just hadn’t done anything. That was alright, wasn’t it? “When is everyone showing up?”

“I told them it’s best to show up on the third, rather than the second, because you don’t have that much room and three nights crowded into that house is going to drive everyone mad. Especially in this weather.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she’d already moved onto another subject, beating him to it. “How is Bilbo?”

Thorin found himself shrugging, even though there was no one around to see it. “He’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Well, he’s not fantastic, if that’s what you mean.” Thorin thought about Bilbo now, in a fitful sleep on the couch. This heat wave was taking it out of everyone.

“Did you two have a fight?” She asked now, and he could imagine her eyebrows raising to her hairline.

“What? No.”

“Are you _sure_?” she prodded, making him frown.

“Of course I’m sure,” he replied. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Well, the men of this family aren’t well known for knowing when they’ve done something wrong.”

Thorin sighed. “It’s nothing like that, mom. It’s just the heat.”

“Ah,” she sighed knowingly. “It has been rather hot these past few weeks.” _Rather hot_? It was bloody sweltering.

“I know,” he said instead. “We’re having trouble sleeping over here.”

“You ought to buy one of those paddling pools for the boys. They’re cheap, and you have more than enough room in that backyard of yours for it.”

He supposed it was a good suggestion, and it’d keep the boys occupied enough during the day. He just had to brace himself enough so he could leave the house, is all. It was bad enough going to work wearing that damn uniform. 

“Alright,” he stifled a yawn, “I’m going to go nap now, mom. I’ll talk later.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied airily, her attention having been caught by something on her side. “I’ll check up later.”

Thorin shuffled into the living room and fell onto the sofa besides Bilbo.

“Boys,” he murmured, rolling onto his side sleepily.

“Still with Balin at the park for another two hours,” Thorin informed him, closing his own eyes.

Bilbo kicked his shin. “Too hot.”

“Deal with it,” Thorin said, “I am not sleeping on the floor like you made me do last night.” His back was killing him. Although, the wooden floor was significantly cooler than the stuffy mattress had been. Not that that made his back pain any better.

Eventually Bilbo sighed, relenting, and allowed Thorin to lie at his side.

“Ma thinks we should get a paddling pool,” he said sleepily.

“You’ll never fit in that.” Bilbo replied, making him chuckle. “What? You won’t.”

“For Fili and Kili,” Thorin amended. “Unfortunately, we’ll still be suffering.”

“Uh, no, _you’ll_ be suffering. If you buy a paddling pool, I’m sitting in it whether it’s for kids or not.”

His chuckles turned into full-blown fits of laughter now.

Bilbo huffed and elbowed him off the couch.

**

School started again soon after that, thankfully, and the boys were out of the house more often. It was now perfectly acceptable for Thorin to spend half an hour standing in a cold shower before work once they were gone for the day. Work was alright, _when_ he was inside, anyway. The air-conditioning had been fixed (thank God for that) so when he stepped through the doors a wash of icy air greeted him. The cars had air-conditioning, too, even if they did rattle sometimes, but when he had to get _out_ of the car (which was often) then he was hit with a wave of thick, stuff air and sweltering heat- in his uniform now less, it was both an uncomfortable and painful experience. He could see the pitiful looks the civilians gave him and Dwalin on the street and from the inside of their comfortable, cool workplaces.

“You look tired,” Dwalin announced cheerily one afternoon, while they clambered into the car, eager to get back to somewhere that wasn’t the same temperature as Hell.

“And you’re smiling.” Which meant his fifteenth fight this month with Ori was well and truly over. “Congratulations.”

“You should think about getting air-conditioning.” Dwalin told him now, grabbing the Slurpee he’d bought at the start of their shift.

“I can’t afford air-conditioning.” The set up of it _or_ the bills. He was a single earner; there was no way he was going to be able to do that.

“I’m just saying,” Dwalin told him innocently, “you’d feel a lot better if you had air-conditioning like the rest of us. That is, if you’d like to step into the 21st Century.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Fili and Kili would never leave the house.”

“Neither would Bilbo,” Dwalin almost sang. _Almost_ , because a big scary guy like Dwalin could not be seen singing sentences by anyone.

The heat was making him sleepy. “I don’t have the resolve right now to talk to you about this. The sun melted it all away.” He started the cruiser.

Dwalin let the subject drop. For a few minutes.

“Why don’t you ask Bilbo to move in with you?” he asked a little while later, sipping loudly on his drink.

“We’ve barely been together for a year. Besides, he lives with his cousin.”

Dwalin shrugged. “Just a suggestion. You’re the one with the sob story about being a single parent.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. But maybe he’d look into how much an air-conditioner costed, just to see.

“Why not ask your parents for help?” he suggested now. “They’re old money.”

Thorin hated that term, but it was true. Growing up, he’d been given anything he wanted. They had a bursary and a college fund, and a generous allowance. He realised later on, though, that sometimes it was best to work for things yourself. So he hadn’t asked for money or help from them for a good many years now.

“Don’t say that to them,” he said in lieu of a proper reply. “I think any hint of ‘old’ and they’d be offended.” They were old, though. Not spectacularly old or anything. His grandparents, now _they_ were spectacularly old. Surprisingly enough, though Thror was in better health than his son and Thorins’ father Thrain was.

Dwalin seemed to realise his train of thought. “How is he?” he asked now.

Thorin shrugged. “As well as he can be. Apparently he’s having trouble recognising Dain. But he still knows who mom is, and Frerin too. And she showed him some recent pictures of us and the kids, and he seemed to know who we are, so it’s not all bad. But she caught him standing in the backyard yesterday morning, he didn’t seem to know where he was.”

Dwalin sighed. “Bad week, then.”

“Yeah,” Thorin replied. “Bad week. I don’t think the heat’s helping, either.”

“Is he coming in July?” They were all pretty sure it might be his last July, as depressing as that seemed.

“That’s the plan,” he hummed, stopping at the lights.

Dwalin considered his words for some time. “Well,” he began after a long pause, “you’d better not burn the bloody backyard down, then.”

Thorin laughed, despite his black mood.

**

Kili was no longer in Bilbo’s class, much to the young boys’ irritation, which often led to Thorin being called in about him sneaking out of his own class and into Bilbo’s. Thorin wasn’t really sure what they expected him to do- electronically tag the boy?

This was one of those times, of course. _You can’t just go and see Bilbo whenever you like when you’re at school._ He sighed, frowning at Kili now.

They sat in his car, after a very long and arduous conversation with the principal about, once again, trying to control children.

Kili looked as irritated as Thorin felt. _Why not?_ He demanded, pouting.

 _Because you’re at school,_ Thorin explained.

Kili didn’t look like he thought that was a go enough answer. _I don’t know why everyone’s so mad. Mister Radagast is super boring._

Thorin was getting annoyed, but he had to admit it had a little more to do with the heat than with Kili. If he were in his position, he’d probably sneak out to see Bilbo, too. _I don’t care how boring he is you’re going to sit and listen to him._

 _He doesn’t even know much sign language._ Kili told him morosely. _And he speaks too fast, I can’t lip read that well._

Thorin sighed, running a hand over his face. _We’ll talk to someone about it tomorrow._

As soon as Fili got in the car he turned to look at them both.

 _Ice cream?_ He asked.

He was a terrible parent who had no skills in punishing but it was hot and he didn’t care.

They ate it inside the car, of course, even though he was sure they would drop some on the seats (which they did) but if they stayed out there any longer the ice cream would have melted before they’d gotten a chance to even have it.

Bilbo didn’t come over that afternoon, but he did show up extra early the next morning with a large box. “Ta-dah,” he announced when Thorin opened the door, holding it up. “Surprise.”

“What is it?” Thorin frowned at it, stepping aside to let Bilbo carry it inside.

“It’s a paddling pool. I figured I’d bring it over while they were still sleeping so we can set it up and surprise them this afternoon.”

Thorin sighed in relief at the idea of a pool. “Marry me.”

Bilbo laughed. “Not until you upgrade to a proper in-ground pool, I’m afraid. And maybe get a few more fans.”

“I was thinking about air-conditioning,” he mumbled, grabbing some soda from the fridge and setting it on the kitchen table while Bilbo tucked the box away in the laundry.

“That’s a good idea,” Bilbo told him, taking a seat. He raised an eyebrow at the soda. “This early in the morning?” he asked.

“The water from the tap’s running hot, I didn’t have any water in the fridge, and you hate juice.”

Bilbo shrugged. “Fair enough,” he replied, grabbing one can. “Just don’t let Fili and Kili catch us or we’ll never hear the end of it.” He gave Thorin an appraising gaze now. “Slept much?”

Thorin must have looked a mess. When he’d caught sight of himself in the mirror that morning, his hair tangled and his eyes heavy and lined from lack of sleep, he’d wondered if he ought to take sick day. But he had to get to work.

“Not really,” he yawned. “You?”

Bilbo shrugged. “My fans are no doubt cringing from the overuse, but they’re doing the trick, mostly.” He took a sip of his drink. “Maybe tonight you can sleep in the paddling pool,” he added now, smirking around the can.

The boys loved the pool. After Thorin picked them up from school and told them to look out the back, there was a long and loud few minutes of excited shrieking. Kili’s shrieks were a little more stunted and staccato from disuse, but they were excited nonetheless.

Thorin sat at the end of the inflatable pool and watched them splash each other for a few hours before he finally dragged them back inside as the sun set, ignoring their whines.

He did not sleep in the pool. But he may have sat in there for a while at three in the morning.

**

June started to pass by quickly, and Thorin began to panic. July would be soon. He’d have to _cook_. And deal with relatives. Not to mention the damn _heat_.

Bilbo rolled his eyes when Thorin voiced his fears one night while they stood in the pool after putting the boys to bed. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t cook. I’ll worry about that. You can just… stand there and look pretty.” He gestured at Thorin, with a shirt was lined with sweat and trousers rolled up to his knees.  Bilbo was in much the same state, though Thorin found the flush to his skin incredibly appealing. He jumped at him so eagerly that he slipped and brought them both down into the water.

Bilbo broke into fits of laughter, tugging at Thorin’s soaked shirt. “You moron,” he teased, leaning up and kissing him. “Now roll off me before you crush me or drown me, I’d rather not die in a kiddie pool.” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Imagine the obituary.”

Thorin begrudgingly obliged, but didn’t let him out of the pool for a long while after that.

Bilbo trudged home late that evening, grumbling about wet clothes.

Thorin didn’t see him for a while after that, much to his own vexation, especially when everyone assumed they’d had some sort of fight even though he kept insisting that they _didn’t_.

That, in combination with the heat wave, drove him off edge, and he called his mother to ask for a loan for the air-conditioning.

“Oh, how nice,” he could hear the smile in the words. “That’s a great idea. Did Bilbo come up with it?”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom. Bilbo came up with it.”

“Well, of course you can have some money for it. And don’t tell me any nonsense about paying it back- I gave Frerin a large amount a few months ago because his car broke down, and he didn’t have to pay that back. Besides, we’re going to need to be extra cool while we’re there, won’t we?”

Thorin didn’t bother telling his mother that Frerin hadn’t had a car for several months now. “I’m paying you back somehow,” he insisted instead. “Don’t argue, I’m not taking that much money and doing nothing in return.”

“Well, you could do me one favour,” his mother hedged.

“What is that?” Thorin wondered.

“You could propose to your teacher-friend already and get on with it adopting some more kids. I’d like more grandchildren before I’m one hundred, and I very much doubt Frerin will be settling anytime soon.”

Thorin groaned, hitting his head against the wall in irritation.

“What is that?” his mother wondered.

“Nothing,” he sighed, stopping. “Nothing at all. I have to go mom. Thanks for the loan.”

“Alright, darling. Say hello to Bilbo and the boys for me.” Bilbo and the Boys, it sounded like the name of a band. _And_ , he supposed dryly when a shrill yell came from outside, _the CD would just be hours of Kili and Fili shrieking_.

“What is it now?” he groaned, coming outside to find the paddling pool on its side, all the water having been tipped onto the grass. “Great,” he sighed.

**

Thorin managed to get the air-conditioning installed just before July rolled around. _Just_. The fourth was on a Monday this year, so they had a long weekend, thankfully enough.

Bilbo bought a bag over on the afternoon of the first of July for the long weekend, dumping it in Thorin’s room before standing underneath the air-conditioner with the boys, happily sighing along with them.

Thorin rolled his eyes from the kitchen, but had to admit it made a significant difference.

They had sex that night (finally- thank _God_ for that) long after the boys had been put to bed. “I have to say, I very much do like the air-conditioner,” Bilbo sighed wistfully afterwards, rolling into Thorin’s side and snuggling in to get comfortable.

Thorin choked a laugh against Bilbo’s shoulder, so he didn’t wake the boys.

He also woke in the morning to the rather pleasant sensation of Bilbo’s hand sneaking under his underwear, so he assumed Bilbo really, _really_ liked the air-conditioning. And if Bilbo liked it, he certainly couldn’t complain.

“Mm, I have to tell you,” Bilbo murmured afterwards as Thorin stared up at the ceiling. “I heard that Fili wrote a note to one of the other boys in his class asking if they liked him.”

“Is that a problem?” Thorin asked, frowning.

“No. Not that part, anyway.” The words made Thorin’s stomach turn slightly in a way that said: _oh, God, what is it now?_ “The part that’s the problem,” Bilbo continued now, “was that he said no and Fili get upset so Kili went and shoved his face in the dirt.”

“Oh, fuck.” Thorin pressed his hands to his face.

Bilbo pulled a face. “I’ll admit, I laughed for five seconds before going to pull him off of him.”

“Am I going to have to go in and get a talking-to from your headmaster?” he sighed now.

“No,” Bilbo replied airily, “I told them I’d talk to you about it.”

“Huh.” Seems dating a teacher had its perks. “I’ll tell Kili not to bully the older children later today.”

Bilbo laughed. “I think that’s what makes it so funny.”

It was funny, Thorin had to admit. Kili was small for his age, so the idea of him fighting and winning with _older_ children made him proud at the same time it made him annoyed.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Bilbo said now, sitting up and putting a hand on Thorin’s chest. “He was just looking out for his brother. Of course, I also already gave him a talking-to about it.”

Thorin nodded.

He had to go to work today, so he could have tomorrow and the day after off, so he was out early, leaving Bilbo to look after the rambunctious boys. To be honest he was kind of grateful for the slight break. It was still stifling hot, even though it was something like seven in the morning, and Thorin was thankful when the air-conditioner hit him when he entered the station.

“Your mother’s been sending me emails,” Tauriel said, as lieu of a greeting.

Thorin groaned. “About what now?”

“She wants gossip: updates. What you’ve been up to, how Bilbo is, that sort of thing.” She raised an eyebrow now. “Apparently you aren’t very forthcoming.”

“There’s a reason for that,” he grumbled in reply.

Tauriel just grinned.

Dwalin’s shift didn’t start until midday, so Thorin finished his paperwork before lunchtime so they could start their rounds as soon as he arrived.

Thorin should have known that when he arrive things wouldn’t get easier. “So,” Dwalin said, dumping his bag on his table, “Gordon Ramsay, how’s the planning for the barbeque going?”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Bilbo is cooking.”

“Ah,” Dwalin grinned. “Good idea. Otherwise, we’d all get sick and die. That is, if you managed to actually _cook_ the meat first.” He paused. “You look well-rested.”

Thorin just grunted in reply.

“ _Really_ well-rested,” Dwalin’s smile had turned into a smirk now.

“Oh, shut up.” Thorin threw a pen at him. “You and Balin are coming, right?”

 “Of course. Any opportunity to make your life more of a pain. I’m bringing Ori as well.”

“Just don’t introduce him to Frerin. You know what he’s like after a breakup.”

“ _Again_?” Dwalin looked unimpressed.

Thorin got to his feet. “According to mom he did, anyway. Come on, I’ll tell you about it while we’re on patrol.”

“This fucking heat,” Dwalin growled as they stepped outside. “I swear if it stays like this much longer you’ll have to arrest _me_ for killing someone.”

Thorin found himself mirroring those thoughts as he slipped into the car.

 

**

He tried to sleep in the next day, he really did, but it was hard when the boys were jumping on the bed, screeching about the others arriving today. Any parent will agree that it is rather hard to doze off when your child accidentally stands on your sternum and knocks the wind from your lungs.

“You know your power bill is going to be massive after this, right?” Bilbo asked during breakfast, which was taking place in front of the air-conditioner, as it had been these past few days.

Thorin sighed, looking down at his coffee. “I know. But I’d rather sanity than money any day.”

Bilbo laughed at him. “I suppose you’re right about that,” he agreed, leaning over and kissing him.

Kili wrinkled his nose. _Yuck_ he signed at his brother, who was watching the transaction curiously.

 _Do you boys want kisses, too_? Bilbo signed, teasing, leaning in and grabbing Kili so he could press kisses to his cheek. Kili squealed, but looked rather pleased with the attention. Fili made no protest at all, not even bothering to pretend he didn’t like hugs and kisses.

Thorin wasn’t planning on pretending either.

“So when do they arrive?” Bilbo asked now, settling back down and reaching for his half-eaten toast.

“Sometime this afternoon,” Thorin replied, resigning himself to raucous and annoying company for the next two and a half days.

“Well,” Bilbo sighed now, slapping his hands together and turning to the boys and signing while he spoke, “I think while we wait we should sit in the pool with ice cream. What do you think?”

Kili’s eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet, running to the freezer in the kitchen, Fili hot on his heels. Bilbo got up slowly, making a face when he put a hand to his back. “I think I’m getting too old to run round after the little ones.”

Thorin got to his feet with a groan. “Join the club.”

The sun was bearing down on them with a ridiculous amount of heat, but the water was cold, and the boys were splashing around, making flicks of water hit his face- which would have been annoying if not for the cool reprieve it gave him.

He thought, briefly, about putting his head under the water, but he never liked that feeling of long, wet hair sticking to his skin, so he didn’t bother.

There was a loud knock on the door a little past lunchtime, and Thorin went to answer it. He’d rather he do it than one of the boys or Bilbo, who’d end up trailing water through the house because they’d gone completely into the water without thinking to get towels or anything to dry themselves off with. As soon as the door was open Frerin was on top of him, crushing him in a bone-breaking sort of hug. “There’s my favourite brother!”

“Frerin, I’m your _only_ brother.”

“Regardless,” Frerin pulled back with a chipper smile. “Where’s Bilbo?”

“Out the back with Fili and Kili. Watch out,” he called after him as he wandered through the house, “water’s involved.”

“Look what I’ve got,” Dain waved something in his face, getting his attention. Very expensive looking steaks. “Don’t screw it up, man. Those cost a fortune.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thorin stepped back to let him inside, “the others?”

“Should be here soon enough. You know your parents don’t fly.”

Thorin hummed in agreement. “Beer?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen.

Dain gave a grin. “You read my mind.”

His parents and grandparents arrived next, bearing gifts for the boys. Thrain frowned at his surroundings. “You got a new couch.”

Thorin repressed a sigh, and instead smiled, reminding himself what his mother had told him- that this could possibly be his last July. “I did, yes.” Even if that couch was nearing five years old, Thrain didn’t need to be reminded. “How are you?”

Thrain gave a noncommittal noise, and wandered off into the living room.

Thror watched him go. “It should be me,” he mused eventually, looking slightly depressed. “I’m getting too old for my body, but my brain works just fine. He should be sharp as me. I should be the one with the corroding mind.”

“Not much we can do about it,” Thorin handed his grandfather a drink. “Just try to enjoy the family time.”

Thror snorted. “You sound like your mother. She always was too optimistic for the rest of us.” He glanced across the hall now, to where Bilbo was laughing with Frerin. “Seems to be a habit of the family, marrying the cheery ones.”

“I think we have enough pessimism for the whole family, don’t you think?” Thorin replied teasingly. “No need to add any more.” He didn’t bother pointing out that he and Bilbo weren’t married. He’d given up trying to do that a while ago. If the family insisted on treating them like a married couple, Thorin would let them. Besides, it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, was it?

He shook his head, refusing to think about _that_ right _now_.

“So when are Balin and Dwalin showing up?”

“Dwain’s working today. He’ll be coming over tomorrow with Ori. I’m assuming Balin will be with him.”

“Good,” Thror looked pleased. “Last time I spoke to Balin he said Dwalin was pining.”

“Dwalin’s always pining,” Thorin informed him. “Their relationship is… intense.”

“That’s one word for it,” Dain snorted from behind them, where he was rooting through the fridge.

The rest of the family began to arrive in droves soon after, shouting loudly at each other and duping bags in the living room so they could stand near the air-conditioner.

_“Best idea you’ve ever had,” Frerin had told him with a slap on the back while they were having a very loud and very messy dinner later that night._

“But are you sure they’re okay sleeping in the living room?” Bilbo wondered, somewhat anxiously, as they were getting ready for bed. “I mean, isn’t it polite to let them sleep in your bed?”

“It’s cooler down there than it is up here. Besides, I think they’re hell-bent on giving us some private time.”

Bilbo reddened. “Oh, dear,” he murmured, more to himself than to Thorin.

“I warned you that they were nosy.” Thorin reminded him. “I did. But you just went ‘ _Oh, Thorin, they can’t be that bad_ ’.”

“Yes, well, I hardly have experience with large families, do I?” Bilbo asked with a frown, hands on his hips.

Thorin felt a flicker of guilt, but pushed it aside. Bilbo hadn’t meant the words like that, he knew that. “Well, now you do.”

Bilbo looked pleased, despite the awkwardness of the subject of their private life being gossip within his family.

“So,” he crawled over the bed now, to the other side where Thorin was taking off his shirt. “I suppose it’s completely wrong to suggest we have sex, then?” he wondered with a grin.

Thorin rolled his eyes. “If they’re listening in it’s their own fault,” he said casually, before tackling Bilbo into the pillows.

With one hand he unbuckled Bilbo’s pants, and with the other he rifled through is bedside drawer for…  something that wasn’t there.  He swore.

“What is it?” Bilbo asked, slightly breathless.

“I put the condoms in my desk.” Across the other side of the room. Which meant he’d have to get up and walk over there. The short pace of the room hadn’t ever seemed so far before.

“Ugh,” Bilbo flopped down onto the pillows. “Go on, then.”

Thorin sighed and padded across the room. “Where else am I supposed to put them?” He asked, finding his key and unlocking the drawer. “They get into everywhere else.”

Bilbo gave no reply, just watched him impatiently. Thorin grabbed the condoms and the lube, shutting the drawer, and all but ran back to the bed.

“Finally.”

“That was less than a minute, Bilbo.” Thorin returned mildly.

“A new record for you, then,” Bilbo mocked, raising an eyebrow.

Thorin slapped him on the shoulder. “Any more comments like that and I’ll stop.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Like you would ever even consider that.”

He was right, but Thorin wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction by telling him so. “Hush now,” he said instead. “You’ll break my concentration.”

Bilbo broke into a fit of laughter at that, making it rather difficult for Thorin to pull off the rest of his clothes, but he did manage. Eventually.

“Wait,” Bilbo stilled his hands after he crawled over top of him.

He felt his brow furrow. “What?”

“Well- what about the door?”

Thorin shook his head, hair falling in his eyes. “I locked it,” he informed him casually, going back to what he was doing before.

“You-you planned this, didn’t you?” The words ended on a squeak when on a whim, Thorin bent down and nipped gently at his stomach.

“Of course,” he replied now, uncapping the bottle of lube and slicking his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because there are people downstair- _ah_!” Bilbo arched now as Thorin settled one finger inside of him.

“Quiet,” he scolded, teasing. “Someone might hear you.” He added a second finger now. “Look at you,” he murmured. “You look so good like this, stretched out by my fingers,” Thorin glanced up at his face, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, biting his lip, inhaling deeply through his nose.  He grinned, moving his fingers just so, so they scraped lightly over the spot Bilbo liked so much. But only just.

Bilbo’s mouth fell open, panting for more, but Thorin wouldn’t give it to him. Not just yet, anyway. “I should tease you like this more often,” he mused, adding a third finger, trying to wring out as many whines as he could pull from Bilbo’s mouth.

But Bilbo was getting irritated now. He rocked downwards onto Thorin’s fingers, eye snapping open in impatience. “ _Thorin_.” It was annoyed, he could tell that much. But if Thorin hadn’t known the expression well, he wouldn’t have been able to tell underneath the breathy-needy bit over top.

“It’s alright,” Thorin told him, “just a little more.” He bent down to kiss him, and Bilbo bit at his bottom lip. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured into his mouth, swallowing a small moan.

He’d have to get on with it soon, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait. He was already painfully hard, and taking his time teasing was making it worse.

He pulled his fingers out now, scrambling to grab at the bottle again while Bilbo breathlessly egged him on. He settled himself between Bilbo’s thighs, grabbing his hip with a slippery hand, and slowly slid inside. Bilbo hitched his legs up, still impatient for more, wrapping them around his waist and urging him further. He reached up, fingers knotting painfully in Thorin’s hair (although, he was thankful to get some of it out of his eyes), and kissed him again.

Thorin tried not to go too fast, mostly because the banging of the headboard on the wall would be a dead giveaway of what was happening up here, but also because he knew it would frustrate Bilbo to no end if he took his time. So he set a maddeningly slow pace, thrusting, bending down to suck at the creamy skin above his collarbone.

He was right.

 Soon enough Bilbo was whining for him to go faster, legs tightening around his waist, hands tugging at his hair because he _knew_ that was what Thorin liked, because Bilbo didn’t play fair at all. To be fair, neither did Thorin, so it’s not like it was some injustice or something.

It didn’t take him long to relent. Finally giving in, he started to move in a faster, disjointed pace. Bilbo positively _mewled_ , burying his face into the nape of Thorin’s neck, moving with him. He lasted only for a few more thrusts before crying out, coming between them and sagging a little, sated and boneless, as Thorin finished and collapsed on top of him, pinning him to the mattress.

“You alright?” he murmured, face crushed into the pillow. He should move and clean up the mess they’d made, but right now he didn’t really feel like it.

Bilbo nodded against his shoulder. “You don’t think they heard us, do you?” He asked, somewhat sleepily.

Thorin huffed a laugh. “I hope not.” Slowly he pulled away and rolled onto his side, pulling Bilbo with him so they could face each other. He pushed the hair, damp with sweat, from his face. “You’re a mess.”

“Well, you’re no Spring Chicken either, I’ll have you know.” Bilbo replied, making a face.  “Should we shower?”

Thorin liked the sound of that idea. “Soon,” he agreed. Once he’d recovered.

“I meant a shower wherein we actually _shower_ , Thorin.” Bilbo told him disparagingly now, rolling his eyes.

“Now what kind of a shower would it be if we actually showered together?” he scoffed in reply. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

**

He woke up to find himself alone in the bed, and a raucous conversation going on downstairs. He rolled out of bed, grabbing his pyjama bottoms and an old shirt and pulling them on, before venturing down the stairs to see what was going on.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty’s up!” Frerin saluted him with his coffee. “Bilbo was just telling us how you liked your beauty sleep.”

Bilbo, who was beside him on the couch, rolled his eyes. “He’s just jealous you got more sleep than he did. Fili and Kili woke him up at six this morning to help them top the pool up again.”

That didn’t sound pleasant. Thorin yawned. “Okay.”

“A man of any words in the morning, I see.” Dain said from in front of the air-conditioner. “Any chance we could have the barbeque in here rather than out there?”

“Not in the slightest,” Thorin returned, going into the kitchen in search of sustenance.

“Spoil-sport!” Dain called after him.

Bilbo got started on the food at about eleven, setting the barbeque up and taking out the very expensive meat Dain had brought with him, as well as the cheaper stuff he and Thorin had bought for the occasion. Thorin gladly stayed away from the grill, opting to do the less dangerous task of making the salad that nobody really ever ate. At least he couldn’t set fire to lettuce and cucumber, right? Well, no, but he could cut a finger off, which was why Kili valiantly stayed by his side in the kitchen, carefully watching him. Dain came in to check on him every now and again, as well, though Thorin thought that was mostly because he thought it was hilarious. Also, they kept the beer in the fridge to keep it cool so he was making excuses to come in and grab more.

When he was finished he let Kili carry the massive bowl out onto the back porch where everyone was waiting.

“About time!” Thror said from where he was seated near the grill.

“We were wondering if you’d maybe killed yourself while chopping the carrots.” Frerin added, receiving a smack from his mother. “Ow! What?”

“Be nice to your brother,” she scolded.

Thorin repressed a smug smirk and instead helped Kili put the bowl down on the table.

“Okay,” Bilbo said, piling cooked meat high on a plate. “Steaks are done. Time for the sausages,” he gestured for Thrain, who had been takes with looking after the uncooked meat, to come and help him. He watched Thrain help Bilbo put the meat onto the grill. He looked happy, which was certainly a difference from the confused expression Thrain usually wore.

“He’s taken quite a shine to Bilbo,” his mother said, looking happy as she came to his side.

“He has,” Thorin agreed. “Is he alright this morning?”

“He’s doing quite well,” she announced, chipper. “He wasn’t very well last night. He was confused and kept waking up and panicking because he didn’t know where he was. But he seems a lot calmer today.”

“That’s good.”

She hummed, concurring, before looking towards the house, as if she’d just noticed something. “Was that the door?” she wondered.

“Must be Dwalin and Balin,” Thorin moved towards the door, “I’ll get it.” He announced, before anyone could run off to answer it and frighten Ori.

He opened the door and came face-to-face with Dwalin before glancing down to find Ori curled under his shoulder, head barely reaching his shoulder. He looked something like a little mouse, almost hidden in Dwalin’s side.

“Balin?” he wondered.

“Getting a ridiculous amount of alcohol out of the car,” Dwalin replied with a shrug.

“Well, you’re certainly welcome to come in, then.” He stepped back to give them room. “Everyone’s out the back.”

He waited for Balin after they passed by, watching in amusement as he juggled a few cases of beer. “You need help with that?” Thorin wondered, an eyebrow risen. He should have known offering was a bad idea.

Balin dumped them all in his hands and abandoned him on the doorstep. “Good luck.” He announced over his shoulder, walking to the back porch.

Thorin sighed and muttered to himself, shutting the door with his foot.

**

“This has worked out nicely,” Dain looked about the backyard, pleased. “Nothing’s on fire. The food is edible… no one’s stabbed anyone else with a fork yet.”

“The forks are plastic.” Thorin replied vaguely. Bilbo hadn’t wanted to do washing up, and Thorin felt much the same, so they’d decided to get disposable cutlery.

“Ah,” Dain mused now, “that’d explain it.”

“I don’t appreciate the hyperbole, either.” Thorin went on. “I’m not the best cook, but that doesn’t mean you’re all going to die if I attempted to-”

“Yes we would.” Three voices called out at the same time, and Ori and Bilbo burst into laughter.

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.”

“You’re welcome,” Frerin replied cheerily, reaching for another beer.

“I like your cooking, Uncle Thorin.” Fili insisted, before pausing and wrinkling his nose. “Sometimes,” he added.

 _I like Bilbo’s cooking_. Kili signed with a shrug, not even bothering to look guilty.

“What is this, a coup d'état?” Thorin demanded. “Go back to eating your damn food.”

“ _Thanks Bilbo_!” Frerin sang before picking up his hotdog again.

Bilbo just caught Thorin’s eye and shrugged.

As soon as most of the food was devoured, even (surprisingly enough) the salad, Fili and Kili were in the pool, Frerin and Dain following soon after, even though there was barely enough room for them.

Thror was striking up a conversation with Bilbo while he stacked the plates up to be taken into the kitchen. “How’s your friend? The one Thorin arrested.”

“Oh, Bofur? Bofur’s doing really well.” Bilbo laughed now. “Funnily enough, he’s with Nori and Dori right now. I think we did a trade,” he gestured to Ori now, “one for the other.”

“And he’s out of trouble?” Thorin’s mother wanted to know.

“Oh, yes. He’s gotten himself a decent job and everything.”

“Well that’s nice to know,” she said now.

“It is,” Bilbo agreed. “And he and Nori are doing well, so that’s good as well. Thror, would you mind helping me with these plates?”

Thror got to his feet, back cracking. “I can try,” he reached for them. “Just to the kitchen?”

Bilbo nodded. “We can get some more drinks while we’re in there. Does anyone need a-”

Several voices shouted out at the same time, hands shooting up.

Bilbo sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll just bring a pack out.”

“That is just an accident waiting to happen.” He said now, more to himself, as he watched the paddling pool begin to rock, water sloshing over the sides.

“Perhaps,” his grandmothers amused voice came from behind him. “But it will be interesting to watch.”

Thorin snorted. “I suppose.”

They were silent for a few minutes, until Bilbo came back out with his grandfather, bearing drinks. “Thror likes him, you know.” Eva told him.

“I know.”

“We all do,” she continued.

“I know that, too.” Thorin was grateful for that. Eva didn’t take to people that well, and Frerin’s string of girlfriends were a stellar example of that. But Bilbo was charming and patient and could bring round even the most spiteful person.

Eva looked like she was considering something. “Even if he is a ginger,” she added eventually with a shrug.

Thorin managed not to choke on air. “Yes, grandma,” he replied, somewhat disparagingly. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m just telling you that the family likes him. And Fili and Kili adore him.”

“And I’m just telling you that I knew that already.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for some time. Thorin watched Bilbo doll out the beer, cheerfully scolding Frerin on his massive consumption of the alcohol.

It was nice, even if Frerin accidentally threw Dain too hard into the side of the pool and ripped right through it, damaging it irreparably and emptying it of all water, which made their shoes all soggy.

“I hate you all,” Thorin sighed while Fili and Kili mourned the loss of their pool.

**

“So,” Bilbo said as they laid in bed later that night. “Silence tomorrow.”

“Not really,” Thorin replied, rolling his eyes, “we’ll still have Fili and Kili to deal with.” And without their pool they’d be even more annoying. He added as much.

“I suppose,” he agreed, sighing as he looked up at the roof. “We’ll just have to deal with it as it comes.”

Thorin watched him, frowning as he thought. “You know,” he said after a few beats, “you stay here a lot.”

“I do, yes,” Bilbo grinned. “Is that a problem?”

“You know it isn’t,” Thorin returned with a smile of his own, “I just…”

Bilbo rolled onto his side now, propping himself up on an elbow so he could look down at Thorin curiously. “What?”

“Well, I thought that maybe, since you practically live here you might… want to. Live here, I mean.”

“You want me to move in with you?”

Thorin was quick to go on. “You don’t have to, of course, it was just a suggestion. Just that- well, the boys like you, and so does everyone else. And I do, too. _Obviously_ I do, and-”

Bilbo placed a hand over his mouth to shut him up. “You want me to live here?”

“Yes,” Thorin spoke through his warm fingers, deciding to opt for completely honestly.

“With you?”

“Yes,” he repeated. _Who else_?

“And sleep in your bed?”

Thorin nodded, rolling his eyes. _That_ should have been obvious.

“And go food shopping and do laundry and the dishes like some sort of sickeningly happy domesticated couple?”

Thorin nodded again. “Naturally,” he said once Bilbo removed his hand. He waited patiently or an answer.

“Are you sure?” he looked quite unsure himself right now. “It’s just- I kick in my sleep, you _know_ that, and I’m dreadful in the morning before I have a cup of tea, and I make a mess when I cook and I leave flour everywhere after I bake and-”

Thorin cut him off. “And I already know these things, don’t I?”

“Well… yes.”

“I snore, I hog the blankets,” Thorin ticked them off on his fingers as he listed them, “I don’t like the way anyone else makes my coffee, and I hate doing the dishes. But you already knew that, too, didn’t you?” Bilbo nodded. “Good,” Thorin said now. “Now we’re on the same page.”

A grin slowly spread across his face. “You’re serious?”

“Do I ever make jokes?” Thorin wondered, raising an eyebrow.

“Sometimes,” Bilbo replied, “when you think no one can hear them.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Are you going to move in or not? I know that you live with Bofur and everything, but-”

“Bofur’s thinking about getting a place closer to Nori,” Bilbo waved it off, “I would have been left alone in that big house by myself anyway.”

“So…” Thorin found himself making a face. “You _will_ move in?”

“Well, of course!” Bilbo’s tone made it sound like the answer was obvious, and that Thorin was ridiculous for thinking otherwise.

Thorin exhaled loudly, feeling relief wash through him and loosen muscles he hadn’t realised he’d been tensing. “Good.”

“Better than good,” Bilbo leaned over and kissed him now. “Great,” he murmured into his mouth. “Wonderful. _Fantastic_.”

“Are you going to continue providing adjectives or can we have celebratory sex now?” Thorin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“So bossy,” Bilbo sighed theatrically, crawling on top of him. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

“Well, now that you’re going to be here permanently you have all the time in the world to work on that.”

And it was. Great and wonderful and fantastic.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Frerin telling Thorin he used all the wifi.


	3. Weddings and Funerals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any errors or discontinuity, feel free to point it out! Because they're so long, they're super annoying to edit, so I just sort of skim through.

Thorin sat out on the back porch, his fingers numb from the cold. He didn’t really notice the cold, though, if he was being honest. Now and again he’d feel a little bite, the cold settling in, but he just ignored it and eventually it went away. He’d always been a fan for ignoring problems until they went away. Unfortunately, some problems didn’t do that.

The back door creaked open, grabbing his attention. He turned to find Bilbo moving over to him, coffee in hand.

“I thought as long as you were insisting on freezing yourself, you might want something to ease it a little.” He offered the cup. He hadn’t come out since Thorin had stepped out the back as soon as he’d gotten home, skipping dinner. He didn’t know how long he’d been out here for, but it seems Bilbo had deemed it long enough to be dangerously cold.

Thorin sighed. “Thanks,” he took it, gratefully enjoying the warmth on his fingers. Soon enough they’d be thawed out and not so numb anymore. He supposed it’d be useful not to get frostbite or anything. He kind of needed his fingers for things.

Bilbo took a seat beside him, rugged up the way Thorin should have been. “So, I was going to ask how you were, but then I realised that that was a rather stupid question, and you’re very clearly not okay, am I right? I mean, your dad just died, and-”

“Bilbo,” Thorin cut him off gently, “I’m fine. Well, not _fine_ ,” he went on when Bilbo cocked an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, “but you know what I mean.”

Bilbo was smiling softly. “I do, yes.”

Thorin liked how he didn’t have to explain it. Bilbo just understood right away. “I’m coping,” he continued. “At least we had some warning that this would happen. It’s better than having him just suddenly keel over.”

“Rightly so, but it makes it no less painful or hard for you.” Bilbo leaned against him as he spoke. “It’s always hard to lose a parent.”

Thorin hummed an agreement, before taking a sip of his coffee. “This is foul,” he announced, lips twisting up into a smirk. “The worst coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

“Hey!” Bilbo slapped his shoulder, but he was smiling, so the heat of it was lost on Thorin. Thorin liked that, too. Bilbo letting him deflect the conversation with a crappy joke or remark. He just didn’t feel like facing reality right now.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Bilbo sighed and got back onto his feet.

“Come back in soon, okay? The boys think you’re a far better storyteller than I am. I suppose the novelty of someone new reading to them has worn off. Pity.” He sighed theatrically. “They wouldn’t know talent if it hit them in the face.”

“That’s because I do the voices,” Thorin replied simply, giving a half-hearted shrug.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and turned, going back inside. “I am not making the stupid voices,” he told Thorin before disappearing down the hall, not bothering to shut the back door.

He finished his coffee quickly, but kept his hands wrapped tightly around the mug, as if trying to squeeze every last iota of heat out of it so he could absorb it into his skin.

They’d all seen it coming. Thrain hadn’t been in the best health, mentally or physically, for a very long time. The last time Thorin had seen him before it all went to hell was October, just before Halloween. He’d been in and out of hospital after that, slowly deteriorating. The worst part was watching his mother feed him in the hospital, and point to pictures of his children that he didn’t recognise. He didn’t acknowledge any of the others, not even Thorin or Frerin, just their mother. He’d held her hand, right up until the last bit, apparently, even though he’d forgotten her.

Thorin would never forget the look in his eyes when he first saw him in the hospital bed, eyes sunken in, confused and absolutely terrified. He’d never seen anyone like that before. At least, not someone he wasn’t chasing down a street.

Fili and Kili had taken it better than expected. To begin with, Thorin had thought they’d misunderstood when Bilbo had told them that Thrain was in a better place. That they’d thought he was on holiday or in a retirement home or something. When Thorin brought it up, Fili had just rolled his eyes and put a hand on Thorin’s arm.

 _“It’s okay, Uncle Thorin,” he informed him. “We know. Kili’s still a little confused about the whole thing, but he knows Grandpa’s not coming back.”_ He’d never seen him looking so… _mature_ before. Then again, Fili had always been mature when it came to looking out for Kili. He supposed having a deaf brother did that to you.

Dis would have probably laughed and tease Thorin incessantly, telling him that Fili took after him when it came to being way too serious when it came to younger siblings.

And _that_ line of thought only served to make him more depressed. He groaned and ran a hand over his face, before finally getting to his feet and going inside. Some warmth might help.

**

Ori called Bilbo one afternoon as he was finishing his class in an absolute panic over the wedding, so Bilbo had stopped by the nearest store, bought a bunch of alcohol, ice cream and potato chips, and made his way to Ori’s house, where he was languishing on the couch in misery.

It didn’t take him long to tell Bilbo what the problem was.

“We fight too much!” he grumbled, looking depressed. “And I can’t just kick him out of the house when we’re married. It sort of seems… wrong.”

“So?” Bilbo shrugged. “You’ll just have to sort your arguments out like reasonable adults, with none of that locking him out of the house while he’s still in his underwear thing.”

“That was _one time_ ,” Ori huffed. “ _Once_.”

“And I’ll never let you live it down,” Bilbo replied simply. “That was harsh, you know. He showed up at Thorin’s house at like, midnight. It was really awkward."

“Yes, yes, I know.” He was reddening in embarrassment now. “I’m not going to do _that_ again. But…”

“But?” Bilbo prodded.

“Well, what if the sex gets bad now that we’re getting married?” Ori whined. “People say that _all_ _the_ _time_.”

Bilbo choked a laugh, reaching for his beer. “Seriously?” he asked. “From what I hear, the sex isn’t going to die down any time soon.”

“Well, it’s all okay for you, isn’t it? You’re in the most perfect relationship that ever happened in the history of forever. The rest of us have to deal with inherent character flaws.”

He rolled his eyes in lieu of replying, and Ori went on.

“Dwalin and I clash. He says things sometimes that… well, you know,” Bilbo nodded in agreement. “And I’m sensitive, I know that. I get upset easily. And he doesn’t like kids, not really. Not apart from Fili and Kili, anyway. And I want, like, dozens of kids, running round and screaming like banshees. He _hates_ the smell of mint, but I have it in my tea every morning, so that’s not going to work either.” He threw his arms up, flopped backwards, further into the couch in lament.

“You’re really worried about _tea_?” Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ori’s lips flickered upward in amusement, but he frowned, smacking Bilbo’s arm. “Oh, shut up. I’m stressed out, okay?”

“Then let’s just calm down,” he put his hands on Ori’s shoulders, looking him dead in the eye. “For all your fighting and seething at each other, you do love him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Ori replied without hesitation.

“Then you’ll be fine. And I know for a fact that Dwalin would love dozens of kids with you, even if they screamed like banshees.”

“You think?” Ori looked hesitantly hopeful.

“Definitely. And for your information,” he pointed at Ori now, “Thorin and I do not have ‘the most perfect relationship that ever happened in the history of forever’. Thorin is horrible to live with. He snores and leaves his socks on the floor, and takes _way_ too much time in the shower,” though Bilbo didn’t really complain when he was in there with him, “and I’m not very good either. I eat pot noodles all the time and leave the containers lying around, and neither of us like doing the dishes. We fight all the time.”

Ori snorted. “Yeah. Right.”

“We do. We fought just last week about… well, I don’t remember now, but it was about something.”

“And I suppose it ended up with you two on the kitchen floor?”

“Of course not,” Bilbo snorted. “It was the wash room floor. But that’s not my point.”

“But it’s exactly mine!” Ori cried. “Arguments don’t count if you have sex after.”

“They don’t?” Bilbo asked, confused. “Well, that’s just ridiculous. You and Dwalin don’t have makeup sex?”

“We do. But not a minute after we _had_ the argument.”

“Oh,” Bilbo paused. “Well, I suppose we jump the gun a bit there. But we can’t afford to fight properly, you know. Think of Fili and Kili. They’d be devastated. Besides,” he went on now, “I’ve never really liked confrontation anyway. I’m all for honesty, but not the kind of honesty that leads to more yelling.”

“No one _likes_ yelling,” Ori told him now. “At least, I don’t think they do. But sometimes it just happens.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“Did Dwalin really say he wanted lots of kids with me?” Ori asked after a few beats.

Bilbo grinned and finished his drink before answering. “Do you really think he’d want to marry you if he didn’t want kids? He knows you want enough to fill a bloody school.”

Ori grinned, looking pleased. “I do, yes,” he sighed wistfully. “Lots and lots and lots. A small army of children.”

“Which is worrying, I have to say,” Bilbo told him. “That many children under your control?” he made a face.

“I doubt I’d be able to _control_ them. I’m told no one can control their kids.”

Bilbo thought about Fili and Kili and laughed. “Yeah, you’re definitely right there.” He reached for the potato chips. “So why the sudden freak-out?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose things have just been so stressful, and everyone keeps telling us how nice it is that we want to spend the rest of our lives together, and I guess I just got to thinking… and then over thinking.” He put his head in his hands and groaned. “You know what I’m like.”

Bilbo just nodded. “And how is the planning going?”

“Good, I guess,” Ori shrugged. “There have been a few problems, but nothing major.”

“And Dwalin is still refusing to have any part in it?”

Ori snorted. “Yeah, that’s not going so well, either. I asked him the other day which colour he’d prefer for the tablecloths at the reception afterwards, and he said the blue one.”

“So?” Bilbo wondered in reply, confused.

“I was holding two different shades of red,” Ori explained.

“Ah,” Bilbo grinned. “I see.”

“I didn’t bother calling him out on it. He’s been really exhausted from work and everything… Apparently there’s been lots of call outs, robberies, that sort of thing.”

“I’ve been told there is a lot of that, this time of year.” Bilbo agreed.

Ori glanced at him. “How’s Thorin?” he asked carefully, seemingly unsure whether he should broach the subject with him or not.

“Thorin is Thorin. Stubbornly insisting that he’s fine and going about his days like nothing happened. But as soon as Fili and Kili are in bed, he looks so… _ragged_. He just sits there and looks into space, and he doesn’t really talk much and-” he broke off with a sigh. “I don’t know what to say to him to make him feel better.” He wanted to say something, _anything_ , but every time he opened his mouth, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Would anything anyone could have said have made you feel better when your parents died?” Ori asked him.

Bilbo thought about it. “No, not really,” he replied eventually. Which was true. They could have said all the nice things in the world and he doubted it would have eased his pain the slightest.

“Then there’s your answer.” He paused. “Should I change the subject now?”

“A lighter subject would be welcome,” Bilbo told him. “Even Thorin doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Right. Well,” Ori clapped his hands, “ _Christmas_.”

“Oh, God no,” Bilbo wondered if it was too late to go back to the other subject. “Not that. God, Ori, I’ll even talk about your sex life if you like, but no Christmas talk, please.”

Ori laughed. “You wanted a change of subject, so here it is. Have you started shopping yet?”

“ _No_ ,” Bilbo whined. “I really ought to, but it just keeps getting pushed to the end of my to-do list, and the list just keeps getting _longer_. And I don’t even know what to get everyone, either. I’ve never been good at this.” He wanted to hit his head against the coffee table, but thought that may be a little too dramatic. He’d never had to deal with that before. He’d always wanted to. You know, have a family and do Christmas presents and all that. But now that it had rolled around, he was beginning to panic.

“Ori cackled mercilessly. “This is why you ought to get a start on it in August, like I do. Then it’s all done and the presents are in the back of my closet, and I don’t have to worry about anything other than food and wrapping.”

“It’s a good system,” Bilbo told him.

“It really is,” Ori agreed. “Next year I’ll drag you along when I start.”

Bilbo made a face. “That doesn’t help me _now_ , though. I need to figure out what to get everyone.”

“You haven’t even _thought_ about it yet?” Ori cried in disbelief.

“Lay off me, I’ve never had to think about it before.” Bilbo looked at his hands. “You know, even when it was Bofur living with me, we never really… tried when Christmas came ‘round. He didn’t like it because it reminded him of the times he was on the street… _working_ around Christmas, and I… well, you know what I mean. It was just… another holiday. I’ve never had anyone to buy presents for before.” He thought about it for a while, wondering if he should tell Ori to stop pulling his guilty face, before smiling. “It’s all rather exciting, to be honest. A bit of a novelty.”

“We’ll have to go shopping this weekend,” Ori announced. “Get a start on it.”

“I suppose,” Bilbo agreed slowly. “I don’t think we have anything planned. But I may have to bring Fili and Kili along. I think Thorin’s working this weekend.”

Ori just shrugged. “That’s alright. We just won’t get their presents just yet.” He gave a wink.

“I’ll have to think about what to get them.” For the life of him, Bilbo just kept drawing up blanks. “I could just ask them, I guess-”

“No!” Ori insisted.

“No?” Bilbo asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why not?”

“That takes all the magic out of it!”

“Oh. Well… if you say so.” He’d never had a Christmas with children before, so he assumed Ori would know more than him. After all, he had little cousins. Bilbo had Bofur. And Bofur… well, he wasn’t a child. He had the maturity of a child, sure, but he was thirty-seven years old. Hardly the age of a youngling. “I’ll make a list,” he decided eventually. “I’ll get gifts for Fili and Kili and Thorin. And Bofur, and maybe Nori, I suppose, now that they’re living together. And you and Dwalin.” It was more a question than a statement, if he was being honest. Ori just nodded.

“And maybe something for Balin,” Ori suggested. “You know, he’s always babysitting the kids.”

That sounded fair. But… “What do I get him?”

“Earplugs probably. Dwalin and I are going over there Christmas night after we see my brothers that morning, and Dwalin is a terrible snorer.”

Bilbo snorted, wondering if they should go over to Balin’s house Christmas night as well. “Seems to be a bit of a reoccurring theme, doesn’t it?”

“We picked brutes,” Ori replied with a shrug, “that’s why.”

Bilbo laughed. “Well, you’re about to marry a brute, so you don’t get to complain.”

“No,” Ori sighed wistfully. “I guess I don’t.”

“It’s not all that bad, though,” Bilbo told him now. “Just think about all the annoying people he scares off because he’s so… well, _scary_.” He ate a few chips. “It’s kind of useful sometimes, being with someone who looks a bit like a caveman.”

Ori burst out laughing, despite himself, and hit Bilbo in the shoulder. “He does _not_ look like a caveman!”

Bilbo put his hands up. “Hey, I call them how I see them.”

Ori just rolled his eyes. “So,” he mused, a grin washing over his face. “The wash room floor, huh?”

**

“I think I did somethin’ wrong,” Dwalin told Thorin one morning, during a patrol. Thorin turned to look at him, where he was in the passenger seat peering out the window, watching a pair of suspicious teenagers.

“Did you kill someone?” he wondered.

Dwalin shook his head. “No.”

“Did you steal something?”

“No.”

“Did you get involved with the mafia and/or a terrorist organisation?”

“No.”

He turned his attention back to the road. “Then it’s probably nothing.”

Dwalin said nothing for a few beats before speaking again. “Ori seems unhappy.”

Well, that was never a good thing. From what Thorin knew, that usually meant Dwalin would piss him off soon and be crashing on his couch.

“Then I suppose my first question was on the ball,” Thorin told him. “Someone will get murdered soon enough.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “I came home the other night and found him with Bilbo.”

Thorin looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “I’m assuming it’s not in the way it sounds.”

Dwalin laughed now. “No, not like that. I think you’d know if I came home and found _that_ goin’ on.” A pause. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know it I-”

“None of that.” Thorin cut him off. “I do _not_ want to imagine that.” Okay, so maybe he might have a little, but that was totally a thought for later and not at all for now.

Dwalin just shrugged. “Your loss.”

“Don’t tell Ori about your weird fantasies,” Thorin informed him. “That might just serve to make him even angrier at you.”

“Or happier,” Dwalin countered.

Thorin grinned at his friends amused expression. “So, Bilbo came to see him,” he shrugged, getting back on track. “They see each other all the time, they’re best friends.”

“Yes, but this looked more like one of those… consolin’ moments. You know, like when Frerin was here visiting and he got his heart broken by that red-headed lady with the massive-”

“Yes.” Thorin cut Dwalin short when he put his hands to his chest, as if trying to demonstrate _that_ particular quality.

“Yes,” he continued, “well, you got him pizza and beer and sat down with him and let him mope for a while, yeah?”

Thorin shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

“Well, it was like that. Except there was a lot more ice cream than there was pizza.”

“Huh,” Bilbo had come home late a few days ago, saying Ori needed some company. He’d reeked of alcohol, but Thorin didn’t complain, especially not when Bilbo had stuck his tongue in Thorin’s mouth.

Not that he was going to tell Dwalin that.

They had a deal, after all.

“They were really drunk, too,” Dwalin went on, as if he knew what Thorin was thinking anyway. “I think I caught them talking about _somethin’_ private, because they both went red as beetroots when I walked in.”

“Maybe they _were_ about to have sex,” Thorin teased, stopping at a set of lights.

“Don’t be a bastard,” Dwalin said now, but Thorin could see a small smile on his face. “We’re talking about somethin’ important here.”

“Which was?” he prodded.

“Ori bein’ upset.”

“Maybe he was just stressed and needed to unwind. And _don’t_ say anything about you being able to unwind him,” he put a hand up now, before Dwalin could say anything. “I don’t want to hear about anything that might correlate to your sex life. We have a deal, remember?”

“Yes, yes. No unnecessary sex talks unless they’re paramount and related to what’s going on ‘round us,” he spoke the words like a mantra. Which they were.

“Exactly,” Thorin replied. “So, none of that, thank you very much.”

“That’s not even the point,” Dwalin groaned. “Somethin’s wrong, and he won’t tell me what.”

“So, what? You think he’s getting cold feet or something?”

“I don’t know,” Dwain shrugged his big shoulders. Thorin would have laughed at the morose tone he spoke in, but the only times Dwalin got like this was when he was really worried, so he kept his amusement to himself. “Bilbo didn’t say anything to you?”

“I don’t even know if he _would_ if something _were_ wrong. After all, he knows we’re good friends, and that I’d tell you.”

“Good friends?” Dwalin faked offense. “ _Just_ good friends? I’m hurt, Thorin. I was considering having a threesome with your partner and you’re telling me we’re _just friends_?”

Thorin snorted, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a wanker. Besides, you know what Ori’s like. If there’s a problem, he’s never shy about airing it immediately. If something was wrong, you’d know by now.”

Dwalin sighed. “I suppose so.”

“It’s been a long couple of weeks,” he went on now. “He’s probably tired from work, _and_ he’s planning a wedding on top of that. Maybe he’s just pissed that you’re not helping.”

“He’s been asking me about _colour schemes_ ,” Dwalin moaned. “I don’t know a thing about colour schemes.”

“Neither do I, but if I was planning a wedding I’d sort of have to look at them anyway.”

“Well, I just sort of grunt and point at one, and then he looks at me funny, like I’ve picked the wrong one. But he asked for my opinion, and my _opinion_ can’t be wrong.” His brow furrowed. “Can it?”  

Thorin shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe try helping out a little in the planning. He might cheer right up after that.”

“Agh, you’re probably right.” Dwalin didn’t seem to like the idea of helping with the wedding. “But I hate that sort of stuff.”

“You’re getting married, Dwalin. Get ready to do a lot of things you hate. That’s kind of the point of being in a relationship.”

“Aye,” he sighed now. “I guess so.” He gave Thorin an appraising glance. “I know you don’t like people askin’ it, but how’re you feelin’?”

 “Shittier than usual,” he gave Dwalin that look, the one that said: ‘Do you really need to ask?’. “Like I am always, but on top of that I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep.”

Dwalin looked impressed. “That’s a good way of describin’ it. Surprising, ‘cause you’re not very good with your words.”

“Yeah, yeah, aren’t you supposed to be watching the street and not me?”

Dwalin made a face. “I can multitask.”

“No, you can’t. The last time you tried you accidentally put your coffee in the washing machine and almost drunk the powder instead.”

“This coming from Mister ‘One-Thing-At-A-Time’ Durin? That’s rich.”

“At least I know better than to try multitasking,” Thorin returned calmly. “I know I can’t do it, so I don’t attempt it at all.”

Dwalin laughed, but sobered slightly after a minute. “So, when’s the funeral?”

“Next week. I’ve already talked to the boss about it.”

“Fili and Kili?”

“We thought it’d be best if they stayed home. Ma says she doesn’t want them to see him in the casket. Said it might give them nightmares, or creep them out too much.” Which was reasonable, he supposed. Plus, he didn’t really feel like dragging them out of school for two days to go and watch a body being lowered into the ground.

“They’re having an open casket?” Dwalin shuddered. “I always hated those things.”

“Probably because all the people you knew who died had been shot while serving overseas so they never had the caskets open.”

Dwalin considered it. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe dead bodies just give me the creeps.”

“You chose the wrong profession, then.” Thorin told him, because, unfortunately, they did see a large amount of dead bodies in this job.

**

 “You’re certain you’ll be fine looking after them?” Thorin asked Bilbo for the hundredth time, packing his overnight bag with clothes and toiletries. Bilbo rolled his eyes, leaning against the doorframe.

“I am fully equipped to handle children, you know,” he told Thorin now. “I spent, like, four years at university for it. Got a really nice piece of paper at the end. It’ll be fine,” he stepped further into the room as he spoke. “I take them to school, I teach, I take them home. It’s pretty simple.”

“And all the time in between?” he wondered.

“Will be filled with joyous laughter and no major calamities,” Bilbo answered. “I promise.” He sat down on the bed next to Thorin’s bag. “Just remember to give your mother the cards the boys made. They said they wanted them to go in the casket with him so he has messages when he… you know.” Bilbo waved a hand vaguely. “Goes upward.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “To heaven?” he asked.

Bilbo shrugged. “Sure, yeah.”

“So I’m guessing by the whole,” he mimicked Bilbo’s vague hand gesture, “thing, that you’re not overly religious.”

Bilbo looked amused. “Do I need to be?”

“Not really, no. We don’t go to church, you know that. I don’t think I’d go, even if I had the time to begin with, and the boys have never really been interested, so we didn’t want to push them. And Dis wasn’t very religious anyway. Not in that ‘go to church and sing songs’ sort of way, anyway. But I just… I mean, do you… believe in it at all?” It was weird they’d never spoken about it before, but then again the subject had never really come up.

Bilbo seemed lost for words. “I don’t know,” he sighed eventually, after struggling for a while. “Maybe? Maybe not? I don’t really think about it that much.”

“But, I mean… what about…?”

“What about what?” Bilbo wanted to know.

“Well, where do you think your parents went?” They didn’t really talk about Bilbo’s parents that often. Bilbo probably thought about them often, but he hadn’t been around them in such a long time, Thorin supposed that that was all it was. Fleeting thoughts. Bilbo had told him once a long while ago that he barely even remembered what they looked like. It seemed… sad that Bilbo might not believe that they were somewhere, watching him. Even if he wasn’t the most religious person in the world himself, he’d always sort of imagined his dead relatives were still somewhere. Around.

His grandfather always told him that when he died, he’d go to the halls of his fathers and their fathers, where all his family resided. It had sounded nice.

Bilbo paled a little, and glanced at his feet. “They died, Thorin. They didn’t _go_ anywhere. I know exactly where they are: the cemetery in the next town over.”

“You know what I mean,” Thorin replied. “I mean, everyone believes in something. Religion or money or happiness or… you know. _Something_.” He felt a strange sense of urgency, that this conversation was long overdue, like it was _them_ who were getting married, rather than Ori and Dwalin.

“Are you asking me what I believe in?”

Thorin shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I believe…” he paused for a moment before huffing, “I just think the most important thing for anyone is how good you are and how much love you have, or…” he swung his legs, “something like that, anyway.” He looked up at Thorin. “Do we have to talk about this? I’m ill prepared for a philosophical conversation right now.”

Thorin just nodded and returned to packing. “Sure.” So it was goodness that Bilbo believed in. Doing good deeds and being kind.

He supposed he should have seen that coming. After all, if anyone was good, it was Bilbo.

Thorin felt oddly pleased, though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew Bilbo, and he knew his core values, whether or not they’d been spoken out loud.

He guessed that maybe he just thought that all of a sudden, he was standing in the dark with no knowledge about someone so close in his life. The things he knew about Bilbo he didn’t really know at all, he just assumed, and assuming never led to good things.

Maybe it was just his father’s death bringing it all up. Thrain had never been religious, either. His children took after him like that. He’d been very cynical about it all, but didn’t do much other than roll his eyes when the subject came up.

_“But don’t you think you have a soul?” Dain had asked him once, when he was quite young and idealistic._

_“Just because I don’t believe in your God, doesn’t mean I don’t think there’s something after.”_

Thorin had never understood what he meant about that. Maybe he’d thought what Thror had thought, that they’d all be together in the end, just not the way others thought about it.

He sighed, closing his bag. “The boys?”

“Playing monopoly in their room.” Bilbo replied. “I think Kili’s stealing the money when he thinks Fili isn’t looking.”

Thorin snorted. “Frerin taught him that. But,” he shrugged, “Fili probably sees it and lets him do it anyway.”

“Ah,” Bilbo grinned, “I see. Frerin tricked you a few times when you were kids, then?”

“Yes, indeed.” Thorin moved the bag to his bedside table before returning to the bed and taking a seat beside Bilbo. “Little bastard is a terrible cheat.”

“And you sound like a terrible loser,” Bilbo countered, smiling.

“Monopoly ruins families,” Thorin announced. “Which I why I refuse to play it with the boys.”

“What?” Bilbo teased. “Afraid you’ll get angry because you’re losing and throw the board across the room?”

“Maybe,” he said, “Like you said, I am a terrible loser.”

“Hmm,” Bilbo nodded in agreement. “Yes, you are.”

Thorin tackled him into the pillows.

**

Dwalin was right. The open coffin _was_ super creepy. And Thorin _hated it_ when Dwalin was right.

“Look at the makeup,” Frerin frowned now. They stood side-by-side, looking down at their father in his coffin, dressed in his best suit, face eerily still. “They made him look angry.” He gave a choked sort of laugh. “Kind of fitting, isn’t it?”

Thorin snorted humourlessly. “It is, yeah,” he agreed, cocking his head to the side. “They gave him raccoon eyes.”

“Yeah, it’s a shoddy job, isn’t it? When I die, I’m going to put it in my will that these people never do my makeup.”

“Nice to know. I’ll make note of it as well, just to be _super_ certain.”

“And I’ll do the same for you if you bite it before I do.” Frerin replied cheerily, and they both turned away from the coffin.

Almost everyone had gone out the front of the church now, having paid their respects to Thrain, and then to the rest of the family, and were now waiting for the casket to be carried to the car and off to the cemetery.

Their mother was sniffling near the doors, Dain by her side. “Shame Bilbo couldn’t be here,” he mused.

“He’s looking after the boys,” Thorin defended almost instantly, irritated.

“No one’s judging,” Dain assured him, putting his hands up. “Just a pity, is all. Thrain liked him.”

He had. Surprisingly enough. Thrain didn’t like many people, but he’d taken a shine to Bilbo. Although Thorin couldn’t blame him. Bilbo was pretty hard to dislike. He treated people with patience and a kindness unlike anyone Thorin had ever met. And slowly he won even the strongest of enemies over.

It had been a little difficult with Thrain, of course, because he kept forgetting who Bilbo was. But that didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. If anything, it had seemed to make Bilbo even more determined.

 _“Who are you?”_ Thrain would ask each time they met.

But rather than being upset or angry or annoyed, Bilbo would just smile and take Thrain’s hand. _“I’m Bilbo,”_ he would always say. _“It’s nice to meet you.”_

And then he’d charm Thrain right out of his shell and within a few hours they’d be chatting like old friends. _“I like him,”_ he’d always said each time Bilbo had left the room. _“Funny, your grandmother always said I’d probably end up with a ginger child.”_ He’d said on one occasion. _“Now I kind of have.”_ Goddamn Grandma Eva and her weird fixation with gingers.

Thror helped the men carry Thrain’s casket out of the church. He’d been a mess most of the morning. Thorin had caught him sneaking a ridiculously large glass of scotch that morning when he went to get him to get ready for the funeral. “Not a word to your mother. Or your Grandmother for that matter,” Thror had told him.

Thorin had just nodded.

“No parent should have to bury their child.” Thror muttered, looking into his glass. Thorin had left him to his own devices after that.

The burial was something only the immediate family went to. Thrain had insisted it was to be like that. So while everyone else went off to the wake, the rest of them got in their cars and drove to the cemetery, following the hearse.

They watched in silence as the casket was lowered, and the dirt was poured over it.

Frerin was grimacing at the headstone. “He’d be complaining about the lettering, if he were here.” He said suddenly, pointing at it. “ _‘It’s poncy’_ ,” he began, imitating his father.“ _‘I don’t like it. It looks like something some pansy wrote. Give me some manly letters’._ ”

Thorin couldn’t help it. He laughed. So did Dain. Thror looked amused, but quickly returned to his previous grim state, and looked back down at the grave.

Dain was the first to leave. “Too grim for me,” he announced, stepping away. Dain had lost both his parents (Thorin’s brother and sister-in-law) a great many years ago. Thorin supposed he was used to major deaths by now. “Think I need a stiff drink.” He walked off. “Anyone with me?” he called over his shoulder as he went.

“Yeah, I’ll ride with you,” Frerin announced. He gave the tombstone a fond pat before turning on his heel and following his cousin. “If I die, don’t bury me,” Thorin heard him say as they walked down the hill. “Seriously. It’s so creepy here I can’t even begin to describe it. Burn me nice and crisp and then scatter my ashes somewhere pretty. I do _not_ want maggots in my eyes.”

“He never was very good at being serious,” his mother muttered now.

“It’s his way of coping,” Grandma Eva replied simply, patting her shoulder. “I’d better go and make sure they don’t get into any trouble.” She looked at Thror, who gave a nod in agreement.

“I’ll see you there soon,” he told her.

Thorin sighed and looked down at the grave one last time. “I think I’d better go with them, too. Call Fili and Kili and check in on them.” His mother and grandfather probably wanted some time alone with Thrain, too. It seemed odd to intrude on such a private moment. “I’ll see you soon.”

The boys were fine, spending their afternoon colouring Thanksgiving pictures in. Bilbo told Thorin they were ‘suspiciously well behaved’, which was enough to get his doubts roaring.

“They’re up to something.”

“Probably,” Bilbo replied with a smile. “Yes. But they’re quiet for now, so I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. Now go mingle with relatives you hardly know.”

Thorin sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call again tonight.”

And he did. But he’d had a little too much to drink and was slurring and stumbling over his words, so Bilbo had just laughed and told him to go to bed. Thorin had obediently passed out on his bed in the guest room not a minute later.

**

Returning home was like a breath of fresh air. He eased back into the familiarity and let himself sink back into work. And he had enough of it to get through when he got back. In fact, he was elbow deep in papers the day after he got back when Dwalin stalked in, frowning at nothing in particular.

“Morning,” Thorin greeted him.

“You’re a bastard,” Dwalin replied immediately, without inflection.

“And why is that?” he wondered.

“Never suggest that I help Ori with plannin’ somethin’ _ever_ again.”

Thorin found himself grinning. “What happened now?”

“I have never seen so many types of font that look the same but are different.” He ran his hands over his face. “They imprinted themselves into my brain. I couldn’t sleep.”

Thorin snorted. “Get used to it. I’m sure that’s not even the worst part. But Ori was happy about it, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, yes,” Dwalin got that look over his face now, the one that meant Thorin _really_ didn’t want to know what he was thinking about.

“Okay, changing the subject,” he announced.

“Alright then,” Dwalin agreed, face returning to its normal stoic expression, “how was the funeral?”

“It was a funeral,” Thorin shrugged. “You know: bleak. Depressing. Lots of crying, that sort of thing.”

“And the others?”

“They’re coping. You know Frerin, always makes a joke out of everything. And Dain’s alright, but we already knew he would be. I think Grandpa’s taking it the worst. Along with mom, of course.”

“Yeah, he’d probably be,” Dwalin replied, running a hand over his bald head. “Parent watching their kid die…” he made a face. “Not somethin’ anyone wants to go through.”

“He said something along those lines himself.”

“You sleeping alright? Because, I have to say, you look like shit.”

“My father just died.”

Dwalin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Eventually he just shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose you’re allowed to look like shit.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Who needs enemies when I have a friend like you, Dwalin.”

“Well, I live to please.” Dwalin gave a mock bow in his chair across the room.

He worked late that day, but Fili and Kili stayed up to see him. They’d been sleeping when he got home last night, and he’d left early, so they hadn’t had a chance to properly say hello.

“You should be sleeping,” Thorin told them after he’d walked through the door and been attacked by the two boys.

“We were gonna make you a banner or something but we forgot.” Fili announced, pulling back. “So Bilbo said we should just order pizza instead.”

Thorin glanced into the lounge room, where the boys were gesturing. His stomach growled. “That does look good,” he commented, looking at the large pizzas.

“They were so well behaved they didn’t even eat any of it while they were waiting,” Bilbo told him from down the hall.

Thorin grinned. “Good boys,” he signed the words before ruffling their hair.

Kili beamed.

They ate mostly in silence, both the boys too eager about the food to actually instigate any form of conversation. Bilbo just silent sat across from Thorin, picking at his pizza like he usually did, pulling off all the bits of onion and putting them on his plate.

They made the boys brush their teeth after that, and put them to bed, and Thorin read them a story. As soon as they closed the door behind them though, to go to bed for themselves, Thorin saw the light flick on underneath the door. He sighed.

“Let them talk,” Bilbo put a hand on Thorin’s arm. “Come on, you need some rest.”

He let Bilbo tug him towards the bedroom, and then help him undress. He hadn’t realised how utterly exhausted he was until the bed was actually within reach.

He crawled under the covers and sighed when Bilbo leant into him, spreading warmth through his body.

“How was work?”

He was going to shrug and simply say ‘fine’, but when he actually thought about it, he found his brow furrowing. “To be honest,” he told Bilbo. “I don’t really remember.”

Bilbo rubbed soothing circles on Thorin’s arm with his thumb. “That’s okay.”

Thorin relaxed a little. “How was your day?”

He heard Bilbo smile. “Oh, you know. Fun. Loud and shrill children are always fun. Especially when they refuse to do Quiet Time. But the day’s over now, so it’s fine.”

Thorin wished he had the same positive outlook. But the stress seemed to have sunk into his bones, and he wasn’t really sure that he could shake it.  “How’s Ori?” he asked instead, because he didn’t feel like having a heavy conversation right now. “Dwalin whined to me all day about the wedding planning.”

Bilbo snorted, hot breath fanning over Thorin’s shoulder. “Ori is so happy about him wanting to help. I was a little suspicious, you understand. I knew you had something to do with it.”

“I just told him Ori might be a little more pleased with him if he helped out. I didn’t tell him to dive head-first into it. That was his own mistake.”

“Well, Ori’s happy about it, nonetheless. But you can tell him to relax. It’s nearly all done, and then they just have to actually get married.”

“Ugh,” Thorin groaned, “is it that close?”

“December 12th,” Bilbo replied cheerily. “I’m sure you’ll be having a…” he sat up now, his brow furrowing, “I was going to say ‘buck’s night’, but Ori will be having a bucks night, too.” He looked down at Thorin. “Does it count as a buck’s night if both people are having one?”

“No idea,” Thorin replied, yawning.

“Is Dwalin going to have a buck’s night?”

“Is Ori?” Thorin wondered, raising an eyebrow. From what he knew, Dwalin wasn’t really interested in that whole thing. He knew Balin was planning on taking him out for drinks a few nights before, but other than that they had nothing planned.

“Of course!” Bilbo replied, as if Thorin was silly for thinking otherwise. “He’s already planned it all out.”

“Oh,” Thorin was surprised, though he wasn’t sure why. “Going on a bar crawl, are we?”

Bilbo laughed, throwing himself back down onto the pillows. “Not really, no. I think it’s going to be an in-house thing. So I assume Dwalin will be kicked out for the night, so you should get the spare room ready.”

Thorin wondered mildly if there’d be strippers, which he had to admit, was an amusing thing to imagine. Although he didn’t like the idea. And not because he was jealous. No. Not at all. “Ah,” he replied, “wonderful. I’m sure Fili and Kili will be pleased with that. When’s that?”

“Ori says he’s planning it for the 2nd of December, because he’s working most of the other days leading up to the wedding.”

Thorin groaned.

“What?” Bilbo wondered.

“I’m working on the night of the 2nd.”

“Then Dwalin can babysit,” Bilbo solved the problem simply. “Or they could all go to Balin’s, like usual. I’m sure Dwalin would love to catch up with his brother-”

“Yeah,” Thorin snorted. “That’s if they don’t tear each other’s throats out at the dinner table.”

“They’re not that bad,” Bilbo said now. He paused for a moment. “Are they?”

“You have no idea.”

Bilbo sighed. “Well, we’ll work it out.” He reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

**

“You sure you’re alright with me looking after the boys?” Dwalin asked on the night of Ori’s buck’s party. “I mean, let’s be honest here, I’m kind of the last person who should be looking after little people.”

“You’ll be fine,” Thorin said, shoving his phone and keys into his back pocket. “Just make sure they eat and don’t set fire to anything.”

“Funny coming from you, Uncle Thorin,” Fili announced from the next room. Dwalin choked on laughter.

“And,” he went on, pointing a stern finger at Dwalin, “absolutely no using the boys as spies to find out what Ori is doing at the party.”

“I wasn’t gonna!” Dwalin insisted a little too earnestly.

Thorin just rolled his eyes.

The night went slowly. Thorin scared off some loitering kids, stopped a domestic dispute, and sent an elderly man off with a warning when he started yelling at the people having a party next door.

It was nearly midnight when Tauriel came through on his radio. “Got a 211 on Wembley & Main,” she told him. “You’d better hurry.”

Thorin swore. “What is it with that bloody street?”

“No idea,” Tauriel replied, and he could almost see her shrugging, “buzz me if you need backup.”

It wasn’t hard to see the place that she’d been taking about. The front window was smashed in and he could see flashlights inside.

They must have heard him pull up, as well, because as soon as he was out of the car, he could hear panicking inside. He’d barely reached the front step when the door burst open and a figure came bursting towards him. He reached for his gun, but was knocked off his feet before he could get it out of his holster. A sharp, slicing pain blossomed in his chest and he doubled over, clutching at his shirt. When he pulled his hand back, he saw blood. “Damn it,” he had to radio this in. But the world around him was spinning and when he tried to get to his feet again he just fell on his side. He coughed, feeling his throat choke up with blood, and the last thing he saw before everything went black was a car screeching away.

**

“It’s been one hell of a year, hasn’t it?” he heard Bilbo murmuring through a haze. “Certainly not the best I’ve had. Though I suppose, not the worst either.”

It all hit him at once, like the world was yanked back into focus. The screaming pain in his chest, the throbbing in his head. He could feel Bilbo’s hand in his, but the pain was certainly more noticeable.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, opening his eyes and regretting it immediately. It was too bright. So bright it as painful.

“Stay still,” Bilbo chastised, putting his hands on his chest and pushing him back into the bed when he tried to get up. “Stabbing victims do not get free range when it comes to moving around.”

“Stabbing?”

“What did you think happened?”

Thorin opened his eyes a little again, squinting. He shrugged, though it hurt to do it. “I didn’t see any knife. He barrelled right into me.”

Bilbo pushed his hair out of his face. “Yes, well, he stabbed you.” He fretted over Thorin slightly. “I’m sure you’ll have a nice scar to impress the kids with when it’s healed over.”

Thorin caught his hands. “You look tired.”

Bilbo sighed. “You’ve been in here for fourteen hours. I haven’t gotten to sleep yet. The boys… well, Dwalin sent them to school. They know you’re alright, and I told them they can see you after, so you’d better get ready for more visitors.”

Fourteen hours? Damn. “The robbers?”

“Got away, but one of the people who live on the street heard them screech off and found you. They got a partial plate.”

Well, at least there was some good news out of all of this. “Good,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Hopefully we’ll find them soon.”

“There is no _we_ in it, Thorin Durin,” Bilbo informed him. “You will be on bed rest until you’re better. Do you have any idea how worried I was that-?” he broke off, clearing his throat. Thorin’s vision had cleared a little, and now that he could focus on Bilbo better, he could see his eyes were red-rimmed from crying. “They told me you’d been stabbed during a robbery and that you were in hospital. I didn’t even know how bad it was.”

“How bad _is_ it?” Thorin wondered.

“Not as bad as I’d been imagining. It wasn’t that deep, so you’ll be alright. There’ll be no lasting damage.”

“Hurts like hell, though.” Thorin groaned, shifting again. “Help me up, would you? I can’t lie like this.”

Bilbo gently took his arm and helped him sit up against the pillows. “I ruined your party with Ori,” Thorin said once he’d relaxed again.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” he wanted to know. “You are ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

“I’m aware. Did you at least get to see the strippers before you were dragged to the hospital?”

Bilbo laughed at him. “Strippers. Really?”

He shrugged. “It’s a buck’s night.”

“Well, I think Ori is a little too shy for that. And that’s not my kind of thing.”

Thorin didn’t admit out loud that that knowledge rather pleased him.  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Well, I suppose I needed a holiday anyway.”

Bilbo laughed again, but it was a sort of choking laugh this time. He squeezed Thorin’s hand. “Please just don’t get stabbed again, okay?”

Thorin nodded. “That sounds like a good idea to me. Let’s do that.”

Fili and Kili were blubbering messes.

 _We thought you’d gone away like Grandpa Thrain did._ Kili managed to sign through his tears.

Thorin just laughed and pulled them both up onto the bed. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, signing the words as he spoke, “I promise.”

Both boys settled down quickly, and soon enough were busying themselves by nosing their way through the plugs that wound themselves across the wall.

“That can’t be safe,” Thorin sighed, but he was far too exhausted to tell them off.

“Any safer than getting stabbed?” Bilbo wondered idly.

Thorin thought about it for a moment. “Am I going to get ‘thank God you’re alive’ sex for this?” he wondered eventually, making sure the boys didn’t hear him.

Bilbo grinned. “You have no idea.”

Well, it wasn’t a complete bad news day, then.

“But not until you’ve healed completely.”

Or… not.

**

It’s the night before the wedding so of course Dwalin and Thorin were rostered for the night shift, and of course on top of that there had to be a massive fire at the local bakery at eight at night.

“You think it’s an omen?” Thorin deadpanned, nudging Dwalin while they blocked the street off.

“Don’t even start it,” Dwalin groaned in reply, puffs of cold air coming from his mouth as he huffed in irritation. “You’ll bloody jinx it.”

“I didn’t know you were superstitious, Dwalin,” Thorin teased now.

“Shut yer stupid face,” Dwalin ordered, pointing a finger at him. “This is a stressful time o’ year. It makes even the sternest man weep like a babe.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “You’re just pissy that you burnt your arm because you’re an idiot.”

Dwalin glanced down at the bandage around his wrist and down his forearm. “Ori’s gonna kill me. But hey, at least I didn’t get stabbed.” He gave Thorin a pointed look.

“Oh, fuck off.” He would have said it louder, if not for the interested group of people crowding nearby, trying to get a look at the fire.

“Just bein’ honest here.” Dwalin told him innocently.

“Yes, well, continue to be honest and I’ll send Ori a strip-o-gram.”

Dwalin narrowed his eyes at him. “Bastard.”

“Common knowledge,” Thorin returned simply.

By the time he got home, it was far too late and far too cold and the house was far too quiet and dark.

He rolled into bed, slipping off his shoes, and hit his head on the headboard, because he trained for years to be a police officer and didn’t even have the skills to get into bed quietly.

Bilbo opened his eyes slowly and looked at him in the darkness. “Getting’ y’r beauty sl’p, then?” he slurred, blinking slowly.

“You bet.” Thorin slid under the covers. “And don’t put your cold feet on my legs again.”

“B’t it f’ls so good,” Bilbo whined, doing it anyway. Thorin jumped when icy toes touched his skin.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight with you about his,” Thorin grumbled, resting his head against the pillow.

“M’kay,” Bilbo sighed, snuggling closer. “Weddin’ t’morrow,”

“Yes, it is.”

“D’you think we’ll ever get married?”

Thorin felt himself tense a little. “Do you want to get married?”

He felt Bilbo shrug against his shoulder. “Dunno,” his breathing began to even out. “D’you?”

Thorin had to admit it had crossed his mind once or twice. “I’m not really a suit kind of guy.”

“Th’n you can wear y’ur sweatpants, if it makes you feel ‘ny better. ‘nd I can wear my bathrobe.”

Thorin tried not to laugh too hard, for fear of waking Bilbo up fully. “Sounds good. I’m sure my mother would just love that.” He paused. “Hey Bilbo,” he said now, thinking of something Dwalin had said.

“Mmm?”

“What’s your opinion on threesomes?”

Bilbo just made a noncommittal noise and slipped off, head sagging further down against Thorin’s shoulder, and Thorin just tried his best to not laugh again and stared up at the roof until the sun came up.

**

Bilbo was out of the bed by six in the morning. His alarm had gone off and he’d shot awake, rolling out of bed and darting into the bathroom, ignoring Thorin’s grumbled protests as he was left to deal with the alarm.

“Ori wanted me there as early as possible in case something happened.” Bilbo called from the bathroom, shrugging even though Thorin couldn’t see him.

He heard another grumble, less reluctant this time. He poked his head out of the bathroom to get a look at Thorin, tired and grumpy, sitting up in bed.

“Did you get _any_ sleep last night?” Bilbo asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

It must have been somewhat comprehensible, because Thorin just shrugged and ran a hand over his face. “A little,” he replied slowly.

Bilbo knew he was lying, but just went back into the bathroom instead of bringing it up. He had a quick shower, threw on his clothes, grabbed his dress shirt and trousers and darted off with a quick kiss on Thorin’s cheek and a stern warning to not be late.

When he got to Ori’s house Dwalin answered the door.

“He’s hidin’ in the bathroom,” he informed Bilbo with an eyeroll. “Says it’s bad luck for me to see him before the actual wedding.” He sounded annoyed, but the small smile on his face told Bilbo that he thought it was cute.

“Right, well, you’d better bog off, then,” Bilbo announced, brushing past him. “Balin’s probably sighing at the clock, wondering why you’re late.”

Dwalin made a face, following him into the kitchen. “He can wait a little longer.”

Bilbo snorted. “You’re ridiculous,” Bilbo pushed at him. “Go get Thorin up and Ori can finally come downstairs and have something to eat.”

Dwalin groused about it, but grabbed his things and left.

“You’re safe to come out now.” Bilbo called up the stairs. He heard a door creak open.

“Are you sure?” Ori asked, voice echoing a little.

Bilbo laughed. “I got him out as quickly as I could. Maybe not quick enough to your standards, though. After all, when you kick him out he’s usually undressed slightly.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ori padded down the stairs, still wearing his fluffy slippers and robe.

“Come on,” Bilbo told him. “I’ll make some coffee.”

**

The church was already bustling when they got there. Thorin could see Nori and Dori bickering in the front row, Dori trying to straighten Nori’s tie. Nori just slapped his hand away, scowling.

Thorin huffed in irritation when he noticed his younger brother. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Wedding crashing,” Frerin replied. “Duh.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “I invited him. Remember?”

Thorin didn’t.

“It’s okay, dude,” Frerin slapped Thorin’s shoulder. “You were stabbed like a month ago. No offence taken.”

Thorin just stared at him. “Right,” he said eventually.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” they all turned, and then immediately had to look down at Bilbo. "I don’t like that,” Bilbo huffed, very clearly noticing. “It’s not my fault you’re all so tall.”

“What did you need?” Dwalin asked him.

Bilbo leant in to whisper, as if he didn’t want anyone else to overhear. “Ori’s having a bit of a panic attack.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing major,” Bilbo hurriedly insisted, upon seeing the look that came across Dwalin’s face. Under other circumstances, it might have been a humorous expression. “I think he just needs you to calm him down.”

“But he doesn’t want me to see him-” Dwalin broke off with a frown. “What am I suppose to do? Coach him through the door on how to breathe?”

Bilbo laughed. “Actually, I have an idea. But you might not like it all that much.”

**

Ori was having trouble breathing. It had started when he woke up, realising that this wasn’t just any other day. He was getting _married_ today. Good Lord, people were going to call him Mister _Fundin_. That was just… Well, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. _Ori_ _Fundin_? That just didn’t sound right.

“Ori?” Bilbo asked, knocking. “I’ve got Dwalin, can we come in?”

Ori panicked, jumping to his feet and fretting. “No! No you can’t!” He’d _told_ Bilbo he couldn’t see Dwalin. Well, he’d spluttered it between braying gasps for breath after he crumpled onto the floor, having one of the many panic attacks that had been plaguing him for a while now.

He heard Bilbo sigh through the wood of the door. “It’s alright,” he promised, and Ori felt himself calm a little, believing him immediately. Bilbo was good at that. Ori wished he was too, but he’d always been terrible with words. “I’ve blindfolded him, he won’t be able to see you.”

Relief coursed through him. “Oh,” he sniffled, grabbing a tissue off the table. “That’s a good idea.”

He heard Bilbo laugh. “Yes, well, I’m full of good ideas, you know. Can you unlock the door now? I’ll let him in and give you two a moment.”

Ori slowly crossed the room, flicking open the lock and slowly peering out. Bilbo wasn’t lying. Dwalin was blindfolded. With his own tie, which was… alarmingly attractive. Ori pushed _that_ thought to the back of his mind and grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside. Bilbo didn’t seem to mind having the door slammed in his face, for which Ori was infinitely grateful.

Dwalin’s fingers curled around Ori’s and he reached up with his other hand to take off the blindfold.

“Please don’t,” Ori stopped him. “It’s bad luck.”

“Silly,” Dwalin grumbled, looking embarrassed. “We don’ need luck.”

Ori smiled a little at that. “It makes me feel better.”

Dwalin heaved a sigh. “Can’t argue wit’ that.”

“Here, I’ll-” he tugged Dwalin towards the sofa. “We’ll sit down.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

After he’d managed to navigate Dwalin to the sofa he sat him down, taking a place by his side, keeping their fingers intertwined.

“Wanna tell me why I’ve been led in here like a captive?” Dwalin asked.

“I’m sorry,” Ori made a face. “I just… I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, and-”

“It’s okay.” Dwalin squeezed his hand. “I know.” He’d caught Ori freaking out enough these past few weeks. “Want to tell me why?”

Ori bit his lip, fretting again. “It’s… complicated.” It really wasn’t, if he was being honest, but it _felt_ complicated.

“Is it… me?” Dwalin wondered. Ori had never seen him looking so lost, but it might have just been the blindfold.

“Of course not,” he leant in and pressed a kiss to Dwalin’s lips. “Don’t think like that. I just…” he closed his eyes and huffed. “He’s not here.”

When he opened his eyes again, he found Dwalin’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“He’s not coming.”

“Who?”

“My… father,” the word was unfamiliar, not a term he’d really used that often before. “I got mom to send him a letter, because she knows where he is, but he didn’t… he didn’t want to…” Ori paused. “I don’t have anyone to give me away to you.”

Dwalin seemed confused. “Did you want him to?”

Ori understood. When he _had_ talked about his father, it hadn’t been in a pleasant context. He and his brother all shared different fathers, but the same mother, and none of them had really known their dad’s very well. It was logical that Dwalin thought Ori would have wanted him to have nothing to do with the wedding. He shrugged, flopping back into the sofa miserably. “I just always imagined it that way, you know. I know it sounds whiney or whatever, but-”

“No,” Dwalin argued, cutting him off. “Not at all. I would have asked my dad to come, but…” he shrugged. “After m’ mom died, he just sort of… went off somewhere.” He waved his spare hand vaguely. “We get letters occasionally, but it’s more a ‘ _hey, I’m still alive’_ thing rather than an ‘ _I want to catch up with my children_ ’ thing. Balin pretty much raised me on his own.”

“Dori raised me,” Ori smiled now. “He’s like the mother hen.”

“Did you want to ask him to do it?” Dwalin suggested. “I doubt he’d mind.”

Ori picked at his suit morosely. “No,” he said eventually, “it’s alright. I mean, not that he’s not worthy or anything… I just… he’s my _brother_ , you know? Not my dad.” He leaned against Dwalin’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I just need a minute to-” he inhaled deeply. “It’s just one little tradition, right? It’s not the end of the world or anything.”

“Of course not. And if you need some courage, just drink.”

Ori snorted. “I had a feeling you’d suggest that.”

“It’s always a good idea.” Dwalin informed him.

“Up until the minute I vomit all over your nice, new shoes.”

Dwalin’s mouth fumbled downwards. “Alright,” he deadpanned, utterly serious, “no drinking, then. These were really expensive. They cost me like, forty bucks.”

Ori burst into laughter.

**

Fili and Kili looked utterly adorable in their little suits. Which was  really the only reason Bilbo was letting them run rampant around the backyard where they were hosting the reception. They were going to do it at Ori’s house, but after taking one look at the number of RSVP’s, they’d decided it was best to go with a house with a bigger backyard.

Despite Ori’s little panic, the wedding had gone off without a hitch. Well, there was a lot of crying, and Fili said out loud ‘ _do boys still get cooties if it’s other boys they’re kissing_?’, and the Reverend stumbled over the words ‘ _you may kiss the bri- uh, your partner’_ , which had caused a massive snicker to wash around the room, and had resulted in a death glare from Dwalin which made the Reverend cower a little. Ori had just laughed and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down for a kiss. Frerin wolf whistled.

Now Ori was doing the rounds, politely saying hello to everyone who had came, shaking hands and blushing when people congratulated him.

_“I don’t know if I like being called Fundin,” he’d whispered to Bilbo an hour ago, polishing off yet another glass of wine. “It just sounds so…” he made a sound that can be only described as a blegh noise, and looked at Bilbo helplessly._

_“Give it time,” Bilbo replied with a shrug. “You might find you like it soon enough.”_

_“Well, I can’t really do anything else, can I?” Ori had sighed and went off in search of finding more alcohol._

Bilbo bent down now to whisper into Fili’s ear, signing at Kili as he did so. “Don’t think because you look super cute you won’t be grounded if you push Mister Nori into the pool.”

Fili looked far too innocent for it to be genuine. “We weren’t gonna! Honest!”

 _What’s wrong with his hair?_ Kili asked, frowning at the tri-peak on top of Nori’s head.

 _I think its punk or something_. Bilbo replied, completely unsure. _Don’t say that to his face. He might not like it._

No one had actually ever met Nori before. Bilbo had seen pictures of him, of course, Ori had them up all around the house. And Bofur waxed poetical about him all the time, but he’d never stood face-to-face with the man and talked before. Very clearly, neither had many others. Not that it really mattered, he supposed.

“So,” someone nudged him from behind, and he turned to find Frerin grinning at him. “Good wedding?”

“Well,” Bilbo pretended to consider it. “No one died… so.”

Frerin guffawed. “You’re terrible.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bilbo replied mildly, taking a sip of his drink.

“So, you and Thorin will be next, eh?”

“Who knows,” came the reply from behind him. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and someone will want to hang round you long enough and you can marry them.”

“Thorin,” Frerin pretended to be upset, “I’m hurt by that, I really am.”

“Good,” Thorin replied simply before turning his attention to Bilbo. “Were Fili and Kili up to something?”

Bilbo looked over at them now, at the food table, stuffing their little hands into a bowl of potato chips. “I didn’t catch them in the middle of anything,” he replied, belatedly realising Thorin must have seen him warn the boys to behave. “But I think they were planning something.”

Thorin hummed in agreement. “They always are. It’s exhausting.”

“Try juggling them _and_ a class of first-graders,” Bilbo told him. “How’s Dwalin?” He jerked his chin in the direction of him now, where he was talking with his brother.

“In a much better mood now that he’s not blindfolded.”

“I suppose it’s all about context.” Bilbo mused.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, I just meant, I supposed he’d be happier being blindfolded under other circumstances.”

Thorin made a face. “Really? You really had to put that in my head?”

“Yes,” Bilbo leant up and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Because I get an endless amount of enjoyment from torturing you.”

“You know I have a deal with Dwalin, no-”

“Talking about sex lives. Yes, I know. But Ori and I certainly do not have that deal, so if I have to suffer, so you do. You will know every last detail, because it’s weird if it’s just me knowing.”

Thorin sighed, like having Bilbo hang off him was time consuming and not at all enjoyable. “The things I put up with for you,” he rolled his eyes dramatically.

They fell silent for a little while, before Bilbo spoke again. “Do you think we will?” he wondered, watching Dwalin and Ori.

“We will what?” Thorin wondered, following his gaze.

“Get married,” he elaborated. He looked up at Thorin now.

Thorin just smiled and shrugged. “Maybe. If we ever have the time.”

Bilbo snorted. “Yeah,” he agreed, “kind of hard finding enough space in our schedules to go to someone _else’s_ wedding, let alone planning our own.”

“Kids do that to you.”

Bilbo had to agree with him on that.

“Thorin,” he began now.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you ask me about threesomes last night?”

Thorin choked on his drink, gaining the attention of everyone in a five foot radius. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He managed, after a while of coughing and clearing his throat.

“Ori might have said something about something Dwalin accidentally told him.”

Thorin closed his eyes and huffed. “Of course he did,” he uttered. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

Bilbo just grinned and stretched up to kiss him again.

 

 


	4. A Christmas Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so some of you were asking if I could do more, so I've written a holiday chapter for you all! Hope you enjoy!

**3:00am**

Thorin thought that if there ever was hell on earth, it would be his house during Christmas week.

It was far too early for the boys to be up, but up they were, running about and screaming like banshees, Frerin chasing after them like it _wasn’t_ three in the fucking morning or something.

“Why the hell are you even up?” he demanded from the top of the stairs, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Do you know how early it is?”

“Oh, come on, Scrooge!” Frerin laughed up at him. “It’s Christmastime! Brighten up.”

Thorin pointed a warning finger at him. “Keep it up and I’ll shove your Christmas Cheer somewhere you won’t like.”

“ _Ooh_ ,” Frerin pretended to be shocked, “someone’s cranky.”

Thorin just grumbled and stomped back off to bed.

“Are they going to shut up?” Bilbo wondered, talking sleepily into the pillow when Thorin collapsed back on the bed. “Just for five minutes.” It came out as a whine.

“I very seriously doubt it,” he muttered, closing his eyes and trying to get back to sleep.

It was three minutes before the screaming began again.

**

“So did you like Ettie?” Frerin was asking Bilbo over pancakes. “I never got to ask you, so I figured I’d just corner you when you’re sleep deprived so you’re too tired to lie to me.”

Bilbo snorted. “Ettie’s nice,” he informed Frerin. “I didn’t get to see her for that long when I ran into the both of you, you understand, but from what I saw she seemed lovely.”

Frerin made an affirmative noise. “I’m glad. Thorin’s certain I have the worst taste in women ever. Actually, the whole family does. Honestly, just because I picked a couple of floozies-”

“Floozies?” Bilbo repeated, raising an eyebrow. “No wonder they all leave you so fast.”

Frerin, being the paradigm of maturity, suck his tongue out at Bilbo. “Shut up. But anyway, it’s good that you like her- you can convince Thorin that I’m not in another complete dodge of a relationship. This one is different. She’s sweet, she’s friendly, she’s smart, _and_ she’s the best sex I’ve ever had, so-”

“What’s that mean, Uncle Frerin?” Fili wanted to know, coming out of nowhere. And of course, Kili was in tow. Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly, leaving it to Frerin to explain.

“Uh…” Frerin glanced between his nephews for a moment before turning to Bilbo. “I suppose it’s too early to start drinking, isn’t it?”

Bilbo found himself shrugging. “It’s Christmas.”

“I’m going to take that as permission,” Frerin said, shooting to his feet. “What do you think? Whiskey or beer?”

Bilbo considered it for a moment. “Whiskey,” he decided eventually. “Go hard or go home.”

Frerin laughed at him.

 

**6:00am**

Thorin finally dragged himself out of bed a bit after six, deciding that if you can’t beat them, you might as well join them. He had the longest shower he could before Frerin thought it was absolutely hilarious to run up and down the stairs and flush all the toilets in the house. Something he’d been doing since he was five and living to make Thorin’s life a misery.

His good mood wasn’t exactly heightened when he came downstairs to find all the coffee had been drunk and there was none left for him.

“Breakfast?” he asked when Bilbo wandered in.

“Warming in the oven,” came the reply. Bilbo took a seat at the table and watched him shuffle about the kitchen. “How’s your headache?”

“Not really all that better.”

“I told you to go easy on the drinking last night.”

“You try listening to Frerin wax poetical about his girlfriend’s hair. I lasted about half an hour before I had to turn to alcohol to help me.”

Bilbo reached over the table and handed Thorin the syrup. “It seems to be a family thing, the drinking,” he commented. “Not that I blame you. You’re all pretty mad. I’d resort to it, too.”

“Amusing coming from Mister Looney 2013,” Thorin retorted, taking salvation in his mug of fresh coffee. He gave a groan of delight. “Ugh, thank God for caffeine.” He peered down the hall and into the living room where the tree was set up. “You’re all good for presents?” he asked now.

“Just one little thing to get,” Bilbo informed him, fiddling with the tie on his robe. “Ori’s going to take me out around lunchtime and we’re going to brave the crowds.”

Thorin made a face. “I thank God I only have a three hour shift this afternoon. The sooner Christmas is over, the better.”

“Oh, come on now,” Bilbo laughed, coming closer. “I’m sure you secretly love it.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Screaming and messes of wrapping paper,” he said, voice dry, “of course. I love it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, Frerin’s here, so he can help out.”

Thorin just stared at him for a good minute before they both burst into laughter due to the absurdity of his comment.

 

**10:00am**

“Cranberry sauce?”

“Check.”

“Potatoes?”

“Check.”

“Roast ham?”

“Check.”

“Snacks?”

“Frerin brought them the other day.” Bilbo paused. “Vegetables?”

“Unfortunately,” Fili chimed in. “Uncle Thorin bought them home from work yesterday.”

Bilbo laughed at him. “Good. Good. I think we’ve got everything, then.”

“What about the turkey?” Fili wanted to know.

Bilbo and Thorin paused, looking at Fili before turning to each other. “Fuck,” Bilbo huffed.

 

**10:30am**

The shopping centre was utter hell.

“I didn’t even know we had this many people in the town.” Bilbo said, taking stock of the large crowd of people, pushing past each other, carrying large bags of food and presents. And they all looked utterly miserable. “Frerin, did you want to take the boys to see Santa while we get the things?”

The boys perked up at the idea of seeing Santa.

“Yes please!” Fili cooed.

 _We’ll be extra good, I promise_. Kili signed, smiling toothily up at his uncle.

Frerin sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not really,” Bilbo grinned at him. “Hop on, then.” He waved at them to get moving.

Frerin grumbled, but took both boys by the hand and led them off towards the centre of the shopping centre where Santa’s village was set up for the year.

“Well,” Thorin huffed a sigh after they disappeared through the crowd, “I’ll just run and grab a turkey and meet you in the toy store.”

“You really think you’ll be that quick?” Bilbo asked. “I mean, you _are_ a Police Officer but that doesn’t mean people are just going to part like the red sea for you. You may be a copper, but that doesn’t mean you’re _Moses_.”

“I’m sure I won’t be long,” Thorin replied. “It can’t be _that_ bad, can it?”

 

**10:35am**

Thorin closed his eyes and tried his best to resist the urge to clobber someone as yet another trolley rolled over his foot. “Shit.”

 

**11:00am**

“So what are we looking for?” Ori wanted to know.

Bilbo peered through the shelves as they walked through the toy store. “Some sort of flying action man. He doesn’t have wings. Well, he does, but they’re manmade mechanical ones- not the angel kind.”

“And I suppose he costs some ridiculous amount of money.”

“Probably, yeah.” Bilbo sighed. “I can’t find it.”

“Oh! There!” Ori pointed across the aisle where the last action figure stood on the shelf like some beacon of light and hope and good will to all men.

“Oh, thank God. Last one-” but they couldn’t cross over, because of two trolleys and a pram blocking their way, so they were forced to watch, helpless, as an old lady picked it up and set it in her trolley before walking off.

Bilbo let out a loud groan, instead of falling to his knees in a very Kirk-esque style and shouting at the roof, like he wanted to. “Damn it. What are we supposed to do now?”

Which is how they ended up stalking the poor old lady, waiting for her to turn her back for just a second so they could take the action figure out of her trolley.

“This is hardly in the Christmas spirit,” Ori hissed as they watched her look at toy trucks.

“Yes, well, you can call me The Grinch, then,” Bilbo told him. “I _need_ that toy.”

**

Thorin legitimately had to fight an elderly man for the last turkey. Like a Mortal Kombat style fight. If his life were any more dramatic, O Fortuna would have been playing in the background. Hell, maybe it even was, he was too busy trying to stop the guy from biting him to notice. Although that didn’t really work out as well as he’d hoped. He had a few choice teeth marks on his arms as proof of that.

But eventually, he managed to push past people who were severely testing his capacity to withhold murderous tendencies, and get to the toy store where Bilbo and Ori were waiting.

“Did you get it?” he asked.

Bilbo looked strangely guilty. “I did, yes.”

“But…?” he prodded, suspicious.

“But nothing.” Bilbo insisted, looking far too innocent. But Thorin was too tired to bring it up just yet. “I got it, that’s all you need to know.”

“Alright. Can we get the hell out of here now?” he gestured in the direction of the car park. “I can’t… If we stay here any longer I think I might have a brain haemorrhage.”

“Too bad Dwalin’s at work,” Ori told them as they tried to make their way through the throng of people. “They’d move for him.”

“That’s because he looks like an axe murderer.” Bilbo informed him. “Do you think we should call Frerin to find where he is?”

As it turns out, he didn’t need to ask that, because it was pretty easy to spot them.

“I think I found them.” Ori pointed to a space across the way a bit where the crowd had parted to reveal three boys on the floor fighting. Of course Fili and Kili had the third boy pinned to the ground and were viciously kicking and biting him.

“Oh, my God.” Bilbo shoved his bags into Ori’s arms and ran towards them. “What the hell is going on?!” Of course Frerin was nearby, smothering laughter into his shirtsleeve, absolutely no help at all. He grabbed Fili by the collar and yanked him up onto his feet while Thorin grabbed Kili. “What are you _doing_?”

“He called Kili a deaf idiot!” Fili was struggling in Bilbo’s grip, trying to get back to thrashing the boy on the ground.

Bilbo shot Frerin a dirty look. “A little help?” he hissed.

Frerin sighed theatrically and came over, hauling Fili over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before his mother sues or something.”

“He started it!” Fili insisted, still squirming.

The mother, _thankfully_ , wasn’t as angry as she could have been, and even started scolding her own son about picking on deaf kids.

“I am _so sorry_ -” Bilbo began, but the woman just waved him off.

“Its fine- he’s always picking fights when there are long lines or crowds. I’m sure he didn’t mean to pick on-”

“No, look,” Bilbo put his hands up, “you know what kids are like.”

They made their escape after that, but Thorin stopped Kili when they got to the car.

 _Do you even know why you were fighting_? he signed as the others packed the bags.

Kili just shrugged. _Fili got mad and hit him so I helped_.

“Jesus,” Thorin ran a hand over his face. “You two are ridiculous.” _Come on,_ he signed, gesturing for Kili to get moving, _in the car._

 

**11:30am**

“Thank God for that.” Bilbo collapsed onto the sofa after they emptied the bags. “It was like the Battle of the Somme in there.”

Thorin snorted, but collapsed beside him as well, exhausted. “You understand why I hate Christmas now?”

Bilbo smiled. “Maybe just a little,” he admitted. “I honestly don’t know why people leave it all to the last minute. I mean, who wants to do _that_ every year?”

“Apparently a lot of people, judging by the crowds,” Thorin replied.

“You know what everyone is like,” Frerin said from the kitchen. “They forget about it until the last minute, then there’s the panicked rush. Our turkey is the case in point.”

“ _Our_ turkey?” Thorin asked him. “I don’t think you did anything to get it. You weren’t much help at all, in fact, letting the boys get into fights.”

Frerin laughed. “You should have seen it! The kid didn’t know what hit him! Fili takes after Dis like that.” He broke off into a fit of giggles. “He just walloped him, and Kili joined right in, even though I’m sure he had no idea what was going on.”

“Those two are ridiculous,” Bilbo sighed now, shaking his head. “If one jumped off a bridge, the other would follow without hesitation.”

Thorin certainly agreed with that.

 

**12:30pm**

“ _Lunch_!” Bilbo hollered. “And it’s not burnt this time!”

Thorin rolled his eyes, carefully ladling out the soup. “Oh, hush you,” he snapped, though there was no heat to the words. “I am perfectly capable of not burning food.” He paused for a moment before adding. “Sometimes.”

Bilbo bit his lip, but wasn’t able to fully repress his smile. “We’re working on it. It was your New Year’s Resolution last year, if you’ll remember.”

“I do remember.” Thorin uttered. “I do. I remember very clearly the lot of you pressuring me into it.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss. You need to learn how to make something that’s not microwavable noodles.”

Thorin would have said something sassy in return, but the boys trailed in and took their places at the table, Frerin trailing behind. “It smells good!” He grinned as Thorin set the bowls down on the table. “Nice work.”

“Yes, well, maybe next time you can make lunch, you freeloader.” Bilbo smacked his arm playfully. “Or you could at least stop leaving the towels on the bathroom floor when you’re done- you’re teaching the kids bad habits.”

Kili wrinkled his nose and peered down at his soup suspiciously. _Did dad make this_? He asked.

Frerin choked on his laughter while Thorin glowered at him. “Just because you’re the only family that could make it down here this Christmas, don’t think for one second that I won’t kill you,” he stated. Frerin just laughed more.

 _He did help make the soup_ , Bilbo told Kili now. _But he really only did the stirring, so we should be fine_.

That seemed to placate Kili enough, and he dug into his lunch without hesitation.

 

**1:00pm**

Later on, after a nap on the couch with a belly full of lunch, Thorin yawned and struggled to wake up properly. “Alright,” he sighed. “I have to get to work now.” He grudgingly got to his feet. “I’ll be back at five.”

Bilbo leaned up and kissed him, still half asleep. “I’ll make something for dinner. And don’t forget that when you get back you can’t go and have a nap because Ori and Dwalin are coming over for drinks at seven.”

Thorin groused for a moment before grabbing his coat. “You’ll be alright with the monsters?” he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the backyard where Frerin was out with Fili and Kili, screaming and running in circles.

“I’ll be fine,” Bilbo assured him. “I’ve got Uncle of The Year with me, don’t I?” he rolled his eyes as he spoke. “I’ll make sure they come in before it gets too dark and have a bath and some dinner. And warm milk before bedtime,” he paused, before grinning. “Frerin included.”

Thorin snorted and left for what he was certain was going to be a harrowing shift at the station.

 

**2:24pm**

Thorin never thought he’d have to arrest a Santa, much less one without pants on. “Could you try and find his trousers?” Thorin asked the deputy he’d been patrolling with. “Just… _please_.”

The Deputy darted off, very obviously thankful about not having to arrest the half naked man. What kind of an idiot flashes people in a Santa suit anyway? Especially _this_ time of year. It was freezing. “You must be mad,” he muttered, cuffing him. “Aren’t you _cold_?”

 

**2:30pm**

“ _Ding-dong merrily on high! In heaven the bells are ringing! Ding-dong merrily on high_ -!” 

Thorin sighed and tried to refrain himself from smacking his head against the steering wheel while they were at a stop light. “Do you think it’ll be wrong if I crashed the car?” he asked the Deputy, who was barely repressing laughter.

 

**3:00pm**

“Your mother’s been calling again.” Tauriel informed him the minute he stepped into the station. “Said something about a bet.”

Thorin groaned. “Pertaining to?”

“Marriage proposals, I believe.” Tauriel replied with a grin.

“Is it too late to get back in the car and drive off a cliff?” he asked.

“That time has passed, dear friend,” Tauriel told him. “Long passed. You’re stuck with us, I’m afraid.”

“Pity. Maybe I’ll write a letter to Santa for a bloody holiday.”

“Good luck with that!” Tauriel sang after him as he went to go fill out the paperwork for the flashing Santa.

 

**5:00pm**

“A Santa _exposing himself_?” Bilbo had his hands on his hips, staring at Thorin in shock in the kitchen. He guffawed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Not at all,” Thorin told him. “Right on Main Street, he’d gotten drunk, taken off his pants and was chasing after people coming back from shopping.”

“But… isn’t it a little cold for… well, _you know_?”

“That’s what I thought, but maybe he was too drunk to notice,” Thorin shrugged.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so drunk that I didn’t notice that my dick was freezing and about to fall off-”

“Frerin!” Bilbo scolded. “Language! What if the boys heard you?”

They all peered out of the kitchen and into the living room where the boys were watching television.

“Well, Kili’s deaf, so he wouldn’t have heard a bloody thing.”

Bilbo just levelled a glare at Frerin that could melt ice.

“Uh… right,” Frerin coughed now, backtracking. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good.”

Thorin laughed into his mug.

 

**7:12pm**

They’d just finished Frerin’s attempt at pasta for dinner when the doorbell rang.

“Can we stay up and say hello to Mister Ori and Mister Dwalin?” Fili asked, looking positively angelic.

Kili, catching on quickly, pulled the same expression and batted his eyelashes up at Bilbo.

Bilbo just stared at them for a moment before getting to his feet. “You little monsters,” he told them both. “Ask Thorin, I’m getting the door.” He could deal with it.

“Hello, hello!” Ori waved a bottle in Bilbo’s face as soon as the door was opened. “I got you a gift. Thought you’d need it after today.”

Bilbo took the bottle, grinning happily. “Perfect. Now once the boys are in bed we can get properly smashed.” The idea was heavenly. “Come in,” he waved them down the hall, taking their jackets.

“Frerin!” Bilbo heard Dwalin greet him in the living room. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I hear you’ve been working nonstop.”

“They both have,” Bilbo informed him as he came back into the room after hanging up the jackets. “They’re saving up for a holiday.”

“Oh, where you planning on going?”

“Somewhere very far away from here,” Thorin said now from the seat closest to the fireplace. “Because they’re smart.”

Ori raised his eyebrows. “Well, someone’s feeling cranky.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, but before he could manage a snippy reply, Bilbo cut in.

“Right! Why don’t you all just sit yourselves down,” he ushered Ori and Dwalin towards the sofa, “and I’ll go and help the boys into their pyjamas.”

“You want some help?” Thorin asked, looking incredibly unhappy at the idea of having to move out of his seat.

“Of course I do, but it’d be rude to tell you to do it yourself, wouldn’t it? Besides, you haven’t been home that long.”

Thorin just shrugged, not even bothering to argue.

 

**7:30pm**

“Okay, bedtime.”

“Aren’t you going to read to us?” Fili looked positively _wounded_ at the idea of not being read to. “It’s Christmas time! You have to read to us!”

Kili was holding out The Night Before Christmas, looking tentative and utterly adorable.

“Oh, alright.” Bilbo huffed and grabbed the book. “Settle in, then.” He gestured for the boys to move back, but instead of hopping into their own beds, Kili climbed into Fili’s and they both settled against the pillows, looking eager.

 _T’was the night before Christmas,_ he began, _when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse-_

 _What do mice stir?_ Kili wanted to know. _Do they have little cups of hot chocolate?_

“Uh…” Bilbo ran a hand over his face. _It means stirring as in not stirring from sleep. Not stirring with a spoon or anything._

Kili looked confused, but shrugged and accepted the answer anyway.

“Right.” He sighed and looked back at the book. _The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there…_

 

**8:00pm**

“Hey! He’s come back from the labyrinth!” Ori raised his glass as Bilbo shuffled down the stairs, dragging his feet. “Took you long enough.”

“Welcome to parenthood,” he muttered, walking across the living room and snatching the drink out of Ori’s hands. “I need this more than you,” he informed Ori when he began to protest.

“He really does,” Dwalin agreed.

 

**8:55pm**

“Don’t think I can’t see the both of you spying from the top of the stairs.” Thorin pointed a finger to where Fili and Kili were hiding. “Bed!”

Fili huffed, pouting, and grabbed Kili by his hand and led him back to their bedroom.

 

**9:43pm**

_Just **go to sleep**. _ If there was a way to whine in sign language, then Bilbo would already be doing it.

 _But what if Santa forgets us?_ Kili looked desperately worried, plucking at his bed sheets anxiously.

Bilbo sighed. _Santa will not forget you. He remembers everyone. But he won’t come if you’re not asleep._

“Are you sure?” Fili asked. “ _Are you certain_?”

“I am more than certain,” Bilbo assured him. “Now, go to sleep.”

 

**10:00pm**

“For God’s sake, if you don’t get to bed now you will have no pudding tomorrow,” Thorin threatened, “Christmas or no.”

Ori giggled into Dwalin’s shoulder, more than a little inebriated.

 

**10:40pm**

Frerin had long song passed out on the other sofa and Ori, having taken the marker attached to the calendar on the wall, spent a good twenty minutes drawing over his face and trying to keep quiet. Frerin ended up with a terribly drawn moustache and beard, a pair of glasses shakily drawn on, along with the words ‘ _BAD ELF’_ scrawled on his forehead. Ori would have done more, Bilbo was sure, if he’d not tripped over himself and sloshed wine all down his jumper.

 

**11:00pm**

“Okay, if we don’t get going now, I swear I’ll collapse in an ugly position on the couch and ruin your Christmas morning magic,” Ori told them, getting to his feet. “I’m sure you’ll love the blackmail potential, but I’m really trying to not embarrass myself this Christmas.”

“Shouldn’t have worn that sweater, then,” Bilbo teased, getting to his feet and grabbing his coat.

Ori smacked him in the arm, but it was sluggish and a little misplaced. “I’ll message you tomorrow. We’ll be next door, and I’m fairly certain Nori invited Bofur, although I don’t have a clue whether he accepted or not.”

“I know he’s dropping ‘round at lunch to say hello, so I’m assuming he’ll bring Nori with him and just go to Balin’s next door when it gets to the afternoon,” Bilbo gave a shrug before laughing at Ori, who was barely managing to stay awake let alone upright. Dwalin had him by the arm, and Bilbo was sure that was the only thing keeping him standing. “Go and get some sleep,” he told him. “Big day tomorrow and you can’t be hung-over or overtired for it.”

He watched them walk down the road, certain they’d get no bother on the walk home. Because after all, who would be stupid enough to attempt to go for someone like Dwalin?

 

**11:10pm**

“Alright,” Bilbo clapped his hands together. “Let’s get these gifts under the tree.”

They snuck the presents out from the cupboard in the washroom (because the boys never went in there) and carted them all out into the living room where the tree sat.

“I should be in bed by now,” Thorin grumbled after some time, trying to fix the wrapping paper. “This is ridiculous.”

Bilbo shushed him before replying in a whisper. “It must be worth it though,” he said. “To see the looks on their faces when they come downstairs and see the presents under the tree.”

Thorin looked up at him and grinned. “Yeah,” he answered. “It is.”

Bilbo looked pleased. “Good.”

 

**11:25pm**

“Oh, thank God,” Bilbo sunk down against the pillows. “It’s so nice to get off my feet.”

Thorin couldn’t agree more. “When Dwalin and Ori decide to adopt, I vote that we just give them ours.”

Bilbo laughed. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be sure to make note of it somewhere.” He leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Is it too late to ask for Christmas sex?” Bilbo wondered now, toeing off his socks. “It’s sort of a tie between getting a good night’s sleep and getting some before the kids start screaming again.”

Thorin snorted. “It’s never too late to ask for Christmas sex,” he informed Bilbo, rolling on top of him.

“Oh,” Bilbo sighed, words dry, “the romance is just overflowing here.”

“Oh, shut up.”

They accidentally knocked heads in their (admittedly) lethargic attempts to take each other’s clothes off, and Bilbo had a laughing fit when Thorin got his trousers caught on his ankle and had to ruthlessly thrash his leg to get them loose.

“Come here, you silly man.” Bilbo grabbed at his shoulders and tugged him back down on top of him. “We’re a bit out of practice, aren’t we?” he laughed breathlessly.

“It’s not my fault,” Thorin insisted, rifling through the bedside drawer. “Welcome to parenthood.”

“Pity,” Bilbo told him, “if you’d given me some prior warning I would have dressed up for the occasion. I look very good in a Santa hat, I’ll have you know.”

Thorin just raised an eyebrow. “Nice to know. I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.”

“Well, _that’s_ nice to know as well. Now are you going to kiss me or not?”

Thorin sighed theatrically. “If I must.” He grinned when Bilbo glowered at him.

“Oh, shut up you.” Bilbo grabbed him downwards and kissed him. “But move. You’re crushing me.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Thorin asked, trying his best to sound hurt, but he didn’t complain in the slightest when Bilbo pushed him onto his back and crawled on top of him.

“Would you really care if I did?”

“Not right now, no.” Thorin answered. “I am a little distracted, I must admit.”

Bilbo grinned, grabbing at Thorin’s shoulders and sinking down, a look of utter concentration crossing over his face. Thorin always found it completely amusing. He slowly moved up again before going down at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Do you really have to take your time?” Thorin bit out, rather unhappy with the speed of it all.

Bilbo let out a breathless laugh. “Consider it punishment for your previous comment.”

Thorin grasped at Bilbo’s hips and bucked upwards. “Too bad,” he informed him, catching his lips in a kiss. “I’m not really patient enough right now to let you call the shots,” he murmured into Bilbo’s mouth.

Bilbo just made a high, whining sort of sound in reply, not complaining at all.

Thorin would have said something smug, if it weren’t for the bump downstairs. They both froze, and Bilbo twisted to look at the door, even though it was closed. After a moment or two, they heard nothing more, and Bilbo sighed in relief, visibly relaxing. He sagged against Thorin, pressing their foreheads together.

“That was a bit of a fright, wasn’t it?” Bilbo chuckled, peppering kisses along his jaw.

Thorin just grunted incomprehensibly in reply, nosing at Bilbo’s neck, his mouth moving downward, along Bilbo’s cheek and down his neck, before he made it his life’s mission to suck a very large hickey onto Bilbo’s shoulder.

Bilbo’s hands wound themselves through Thorin’s hair, tugging gently so he could angle Thorin’s head for a kiss again, swallowing a groan.

Previous fright forgotten, he reached down and grabbed Bilbo’s cock, stroking quickly. It only took a few more moments before Bilbo was biting back a shout and coming between them, which was more than enough to send Thorin over the edge as well.

“Fuck,” Thorin cursed, gasping for breath. His head lolled backwards, smacking into the headboard, making him wince in pain.

“Quiet,” Bilbo scolded teasingly, not moving from his place on Thorin’s lap. “You’ll wake the boys up. Or Frerin.”

Thorin made a face. “Way to kill the mood,” he groused.

“Would you prefer I mention Ori or Dwalin?” Bilbo teased, grinning now.

Thorin gave him the infamous Durin Glower. “Don’t you dare,” he warned.

Bilbo just shrugged innocently. “I don’t think you’ll live it down,” he said, leaning against Thorin’s shoulder. “ _Ever_.”

Thorin grumbled and pushed at him. “Get off.”

“Already did,” Bilbo replied, giving him a pleased smile before rolling off him and onto the other side of the bed.

“You’re ridiculous,” Thorin huffed.

Bilbo yawned. “You’re the one who insists on putting up with me.”

“Heaven only knows why.”

“Don’t lie to me; I’m a wonder to be around. I radiate charisma and joy.”

Thorin had to look away to hide his grin, but he was fairly certain Bilbo knew he was smiling anyway.

 “Oh, look,” Bilbo murmured now, stretching out under the covers. “It’s gone midnight.”

Thorin rolled over, turning so he could see the clock on Bilbo’s bedside table. It was now 12:01.  

“Merry Christmas,” Bilbo yawned.

“Merry Christmas,” Thorin leant in to give him a goodnight kiss, but found that he’d already fallen asleep against the pillows, mouth slightly open.

He laughed a little hysterically, probably because of the lack of sleep and the stressful day, and turned off the bedside table lamp before leaning against the pillows. If he was lucky he’d get at the very most five or six hours sleep before the boys woke up and insisted on opening the presents, even though the sun hadn’t risen.

But of course, Thorin wasn’t a very lucky person at all, so of course they only had about three hours sleep before all hell broke loose.

And by all hell breaking loose, Thorin meant not only Fili and Kili barging into his room and jumping on their bed, but Frerin as well. Because obviously his younger brother was as mature as two boys under the age of ten.

To be honest, Thorin wasn’t actually surprised.

Annoyed as hell, yes, but not surprised.

But he just rolled out of bed, groaning and grumbling, and went to get breakfast, instead of smacking Frerin upside the back of his head with a frying pan like he wanted to.  Because after all, this was Christmas, and (unfortunately) violently assaulting a family member wasn’t in the Christmas Spirit.

Maybe he’d wait until New Years.

 

 


	5. All Grown Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was debating whether to put this chapter in, because this is mainly a Thilbo fic obviously with some gratuitous Dwori attached, and hints towards possible... Dworthilbo (??? omfg it sounds like a monster). Anyway, I'll just leave this here and see what happens. This is (obviously) set a great many years after the first few chapters, because both Fili and Kili are in their last few years of high school. So: Fili/Kili Durincest is involved, if you don't like that sort of thing, then don't read.

Kili still thinks lacrosse is stupid, but when Fili comes home all sweaty and takes his stupid uniform off, Kili can’t really find the heart to complain about it.

He’s never been one for sport- being deaf kind of makes it a little difficult, so he doesn’t really see the point of it, and maybe he’s a little biased but who cares.

Fili is the brawn and he’s the brains, everyone knows that.

And speaking of brawn… Kili could sit here admiring Fili’s muscles all day, _or_ he could do something about it, (and he’d much prefer to do something about it). But when Kili comes up behind Fili and wraps his arms around his torso, Fili says something (Kili can tell, he can feel the vibrations in his chest), and twists out of his reach.

Kili frowns, both confused and more than a little irritated that his wholehearted efforts to grope were cut short. _What is it?_ he signs.

He doesn’t see what the problem is. He knows that Thorin’s at work, and Bilbo’s staying late at the school to help the new teacher with marking, so they’re home alone.

Fili huffs. _I just got back from practice_ , he tells Kili. _I’m sweaty and gross._

Kili laughs, he can’t help it. _That’s kind of why I jumped you_ , he signs, as if it should be obvious (and it should- he does it all the time).

Fili flushes, which is perhaps even funnier, and Kili busies himself by quickly ducking down and latching his mouth onto the pale, salty skin of Fili’s shoulder and sucking.

Fili’s hands instantly go to Kili’s head, threading through his hair, and Kili pushes him backward until his back hits the wall. Always being far more advantageous than his brother, Kili begins to trail his way down Fili’s chest and stomach, sucking hickeys and biting at them. When he reaches the waistband of Fili’s trousers, he quickly looks up for verification.

Fili just nods in reply, mouth open wordlessly, which is as good a confirmation as anything. Kili makes quick work of them, unzipping and yanking them far enough down so that they wouldn’t hinder him.

Usually they’re careful when they do this, because Fili kind of goes brain-dead when Kili gives him head and tends not to hear when people are coming up the stairs (and obviously Kili can’t hear at all, so it’s Fili’s job to be on lookout). But it’s okay to be a little careless because no one’s home.

They’d been doing this for a while now, tiptoeing around everyone, although admittedly there was a lot less of _this_ sort of thing when they were younger. But Fili had been the first kiss Kili ever had, because they were both curious after Bilbo had read them The Frog Prince. Fili had been worried, because he didn’t want to turn into a toad, and Kili had laughed at him for five minutes straight. And when they’d both been curious about other things, it was natural for them to turn to each other for that as well.

On an only slightly related note (because Kili’s mind is always jack-rabbiting from one thing to another, and it’s never long before he’s drawn back to Fili’s muscles), it’s kind of funny how much Fili turned out to be the All-American stereotype: tall and blonde and sporty.

Then there’s Kili, and… well, Kili’s definitely not sporty. He can run (although he prefers to do it at home on a treadmill to prevent getting hit by cars) but he doesn’t do it too often. He likes reading more than anything else, and he’s pretty bad at conversation- although that one he blames on everyone else who doesn’t bother learning sign language.

But he’s gone off on a tangent. He has better things to occupy his mind right now: _way_ better things. Kili’s always been adamant about being the best at everything he can be (he’s an overachiever, so sue him), and this is no different. He’s got this down to a precise (and very enthusiastic) method that never fails to have Fili practically sliding down the wall, unable to hold himself up.

Kili wishes, and not for the first time, that he wasn’t deaf, just for a few minutes- so he could hear the sounds Fili makes.

He’s sure it’d be worth it.

Fili’s grip on him is tight now, just erring on the side of painful, and Kili knows that means he’s close, but then Fili’s urgently tugging at his hair, trying to get him to get to his feet, and Kili supposes he’s heard someone come home.

Fili sprints to the bathroom once Kili’s on his feet, and Kili can see him yelling down the stairs as he goes, but he’s too far away to read his lips.

He waits a few minutes to regain his composure and straighten himself up before heading downstairs to see who it is.

It’s Bilbo, of course (because Uncle Thorin is a workaholic), and he’s rifling through the fridge for something to drink. He straightens and smiles at Kili when he catches sight of him, before grabbing a soda for him. Fun fact that no one really wants to know or care about: Kili’s not even a big fan of soda like everyone thinks he is. Admittedly he’s only fond of it because he likes the way the clunk reverberates through the whole can when he cracks the lid. He can feel it in his fingers, and it’s almost like he can hear it. It’s how he imagines sound being like, anyway.

Bilbo talks to him for a while about nothing in particular, and the banality is nice. Bilbo doesn’t stress him out with important talk about how he’s graduating next year and he needs to know what he wants to do with his life because Fili wants to go to some stupid college too far away for their sports program because he got early acceptance and he’s going to be successful and Kili will probably just stay home all his life like the failure he is. Not that anyone has ever _said_ it to him. But he can tell. He sees it in his teacher’s expressions, in the way they 'talk' to him. Even the school counsellor doesn’t seem to have high hopes. But Bilbo’s not like that. Bilbo doesn’t put the pressure on him, and he doesn’t with Fili either. It’s what’s so nice about being around him. Thorin’s not like that- not that he pressures them either, but he doesn’t know how to be relaxing like Bilbo does. He just sort of stands there and awkwardly signs a few things before patting Kili on the back and letting him go back to whatever he was doing in the first place. It’s kind of hilarious.

But back to the point, which is: Kili has no idea what in the fuck he wants to do with his life. He doesn’t even know what he _enjoys_ doing, let alone what he wants to spend the rest of his life doing. Hell, he can’t even decide most days if he wants to have oatmeal or toast for breakfast, and he’s supposed to function as a fully fledged adult soon? He still sits in his pyjamas most mornings watching cartoons. Well… so does Bilbo, but that’s not the point.

Everyone else seems so sure about their place in the world, but he had no idea. What in the hell is he going to do?

Fili comes down soon after, looking clean and not at all like Kili was just debauching him in their bedroom five minutes ago. Kili’s a little irked by it, but when Fili sits down beside him, he puts a hand on Kili’s leg underneath the table which makes him feel a little better.

Later that night, Kili crowds into Fili’s space on his bed. _You’ll come back and visit as often as you can, right?_ he demands, because he can’t stop thinking about it. They have months left together, of course. But they’ll go quickly, and then the break will come, and Fili will be packing and it’ll happen too fast and then he’ll be gone. Not forever, of course. But it’ll feel like forever.

 _Of course_ , Fili replies. Like Kili is silly to think otherwise. Like Kili is silly to imagine that he’ll go off and meet some ridiculously sporty guy who can actually _hear_ and realise that this thing with him is wrong and weird and something to be forgotten. Because he’s sure it’ll happen. Soon, too. They’ll be too far away from each other for too long and Kili will forget what Fili smells like, and he’ll never again get to enjoy all those stupid little things they do together now.

 _It’ll be fine,_ Fili assures him now, face soft and fond. _I promise_.

Fili’s good at keeping promises, so Kili chooses to believe that he’ll be able to keep this one, too.

 


	6. Here be Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was working on something else and this kind of just happened, so here's some Bori, some Dwori and some Thilbo. Also, as a side note- this chapter takes place in the timeline before the last chapter, when Fili and Kili are still both very young.

Bofur doesn’t like to talk too much about what he used to do.

He gets that Nori is supposed to be like his therapist or something, but he thinks the whole thing is moot because they’re having sex. That’s got to be like a conflict of interest, right?

Not that Nori isn’t good at making him feel comfortable, and not that he doesn’t want to talk to Nori about things, it’s just that sometimes it’s nice to pretend those things didn’t happen: that his life has always been as pleasant as it is now.

“You’re thinking so loud I can hear clogs ticking in your head,” Nori taps Bofur’s temple gently as he speaks.

Bofur rolls his eyes and turns on his side to face Nori fully. “Would you prefer I not think at all?” he jokes.

Nori ignores the deflection. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he replies.

And then that’s it. Nori doesn’t try to pressure Bofur, or make a fuss. Because he knows when Bofur’s ready to talk he’ll talk. There’s none of that posturing crap with Nori, and that’s the best part. Well, one of the best parts anyway.

“How’s Ori?” he asks.

Nori shrugs. “Haven’t seen much of him lately, though that’s understandable. Newlyweds are like that: sickeningly co-dependent.”

“They’re not ignoring us all because they’re being sickeningly co-dependent,” Bofur snorts now. “They’re ignoring us all because they’re having a ridiculous amount of sex.”

“We have a ridiculous amount of sex,” Nori counters, “and we don’t ignore everyone else. Having said that we’re not freshly married, but-”

Bofur sits up now, cutting Nori off. “You think we have a ridiculous amount of sex?”

Nori blinks.“You don’t?”

Bofur thinks about it. “I think we have a normal amount of sex.” He frowns. “Are you going to go all ‘therapist’ on me now that I’ve said that?”

“Yes. Let’s do a little activity.”

Bofur rolls his eyes. “Right,” is all he says.

“I want you to count for me the number of times we’ve had sex in the past two days on one hand.”

Bofur opens his mouth to count, but then looks down at his hand and realises. “Just because it’s more than five times doesn’t mean we have a ridiculous amount of sex.”

“We _totally_ have a ridiculous amount of sex,” Nori says.

“We weren’t even talking about us,” Bofur points out. “We were talking about your brother and the police officer that doesn’t like me.”

“Dwalin likes you. If what you’re talking about the weird eye-thing he does I'd like to point out that it’s something he can’t control. The only person he doesn’t do it to is the person he married.”

“He doesn’t do it to Bilbo. Or Thorin.”

“Maybe not but there’s some strange sort of tension going on there that I don’t want to think about too much. There be dragons, Bofur, and I don’t like dragons.” He pauses. “Besides,” he adds after a moment, “could we not speak about my little brother’s sex life? It’s... an uncomfortable subject, I’m sure you understand.”

“Noted,” Bofur tells him. “So... what do you want to do now?”

Nori just jumps on top of him without warning, but it’s not like Bofur is complaining or anything so it doesn’t matter.

**

Thorin is hitting his head against the desk repeatedly because this is the worst idea he’s ever had and he hasn’t even decided if he’s going to go through with it yet or not.

“Get exiled to the couch did you?”

Thorin doesn’t even bother lifting his head. “Shut up, Dwalin.”

“Alright,” he can hear him grinning from the other side of the room, “no need to be so whiney.”

Thorin sits up now and does his best glare. “I want none of that newlywed smugness in this station, do you hear me?”

Dwalin just shrugs, taking off his jacket. “You just want some of t’is smugness- yer envious, that's the problem.”

He doesn’t reply to that. Instead he leans back in his chair and refrains from pulling at his own hair.

“You look like you’ve stuck yer hand in a toaster,” Dwalin comments, amused. He pauses for a moment before frowning. “Actually,” he decides instead, “you’ve got t’at look about you like you’ve opened up Pandora’s Box and you can’t _un-_ see what you _have_ seen.”

“I shouldn’t have even thought about it,” Thorin says, closing his eyes. “I should have just left it.”

He can hear Dwalin’s chair creak as he sits down. “What did you do now?”

“It’s not what I have done it’s what I’m _going_ to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Fuck everything up.”

“I don’t hear anythin’ different to what you usually do,” Dwalin comments in reply.

“Shut up,” Thorin groans again. “This is serious. I knew dragons lay that way but I delved there regardless and now I can’t get it out of my head.”

Dwalin makes a considering noise. “You didn’t walk in on Frerin with that girl again did you?”

“No, and thank God for that.” Thorin pushes _that_ mentally scarring image from his mind and moves on. “This is... my problem. But I blame you,” he announces suddenly.

“Me?” Dwalin asks in confusion, sitting up properly in his chair. “Why me?”

“You planted the seeds in my head; now they’ve grown into fully-fledged flowers of madness.”

Dwalin snorts. “You _do_ sound like you’ve got flowers in yer head,” he agrees.

“I’m an absolute moron,” he says more to himself than to Dwalin.

“Alright, now you _have_ to tell me what’s going on. You’ve got me too emotionally invested in the whole t’ing.”

Thorin just reaches into his pocket and pulls out what he’s been carrying around for the past two weeks. He throws it across the room to Dwalin, who catches it deftly in one hand. He raises an eyebrow at Thorin but says nothing, merely opening it.

He whistles. “Looks expensive.”

Thorin’s anxiously tapping at the table. “It cost twice as much as the air conditioning unit.”

“I think he’ll like the air conditioning better than anything else you ever give him,” Dwalin teases, snapping the box shut and throwing it back over to Thorin. “When did you get it?”

“Monday before last.”

“And you didn’t consult me first?” Dwalin puts a hand to his chest, faking hurt. “You wound me. I thought we were supposed to be friends, here.”

“You were too busy having honeymoon sex to help me through my crisis so I helped myself.” He spins in his chair to face Dwalin fully. “Do you think it’s a bad idea? Tell me honestly, and without any newlywed smugness if you can manage it.”

Dwalin is silent for a few moments. “Ah,” he waves it off, “I think it’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you two are practically married anyway, what difference is a ring going to make?”

“That’s just the problem,” Thorin uttered.

Dwalin seems to have missed the point. “What do you mean?”

“What if he says no because we don’t _need_ to be married? What if he says that what we have now is enough?”

“Is it enough?” Dwalin asks. “If he said no, would you really mind all that much? Like if you could go your whole life with him but not being married, would it really matter?”

“This coming from the person who would probably have Ori get their name tattooed on him?”

Dwalin shrugged. “Difference is, though, that Ori would get me tattooed as well.”

Thorin’s confused at the direction this conversation has taken. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just sayin’ Ori and me are similar like that. Just like you and Bilbo. You don’t want him to feel like he’s chained to you, and he don’t want that for you either.”

“Unlike you and Ori, you mean.”

Dwalin doesn’t even take it as an insult; Thorin hadn’t intended it to be one anyway. “Exactly. You two are so busy tiptoeing around each other on the subject because you don’t want to make the other one feel pressured that neither of you know what the hell to do.”

“So?”

“ _So_ just ask him. It’s not the end of the world if he says no.”

Thorin just stares at him. “When you asked me about proposing to Ori and I said the exact same thing you punched me in the face.”

Dwalin shrugs. “Yeah, well, you’re better at taking advice than I am.”

**

“But if I kiss someone am I going to turn into a frog?” Fili demands.

“No, Fili,” Bilbo tells him for the fourteenth time. “It’s just a story. Now lay down and let me turn out the light.”

“I don’t want to be a frog,” Bilbo hears Fili mutter as he closes the door behind him.

Thorin comes home from work just as Bilbo is heading downstairs.

“Everything alright?” he asks, following Bilbo into the kitchen.

Bilbo groans. “I am never reading them The Princess and The Frog ever again.”

“You should have seen them the first time I read Pinocchio.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Bilbo sinks into a chair. “Although, it is nice that they can be that age and still believe in that sort of thing: it’s good for the imagination.”

Thorin frowns, appearing to think about it. “Also problematic,” he declares. “Fili could be twenty and still believe in Santa Claus. Who’s to stop him from believing in the ridiculous?”

“Kili will keep his feet on the ground.”

Thorin sighs. “Yes, you’re probably right about that. They level each other out, those two.”

“You look tired,” Bilbo comments now. “Long day?”

He shrugs. “It was fine. Just tedious.”

“Well, you’re home now: time to unwind.”

Thorin nods, but still looks uncomfortable.

“You sure it’s just work?” Bilbo wonders. “Nothing else bothering you?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all.”

“So you don’t need cheering up?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because if you needed it I could tell you they have a rating system at work for the cutest couples in town and we are ranked #1.”

“Really?”

“Hell yes,” Bilbo says. “Why do you sound surprised? We’re super cute!”

Thorin thinks about it for a moment. “What about Dwalin and Ori?” he asks.

“They’re third. But probably only because Dwalin is ten times scarier than you and people are more likely to go ‘ah!’ and not ‘aw!’ when they see him coming.”

“Was the double-entendre intentional, or...?”

“A horrible mistake that I am going to pretend never happened.”

Thorin grins a little. “Good.”

“I thought you’d be more excited than this about being rated as the cutest couple.”

“I already knew it,” Thorin comments smugly.

“Oh, ha-ha,” Bilbo leans over and kisses him. “And by the way, you’re reading to Fili and Kili tomorrow. They’re complaining because you haven’t done it in a week now.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Bilbo crosses his arms over his chest. “Yes, well, apparently I’m not good enough.”

“It’s because I do the voices,” Thorin declares.

“Kili’s deaf- he can’t hear the voices!”

Thorin lifts his shoulders up in a shrug. “So?”

“So your point is moot, buddy.”

“Buddy?” Thorin snorts.

Bilbo stands now. “Yes, _buddy_.”

“Where are you going?” Thorin asks, catching his hand as he makes move to leave.

“Bed,” Bilbo informs him. “I’m going to sulk for a while because you’re the more favoured reader out of the two of us.”

“If I join you are you going to huff, turn your back and then pretend to ignore me?”

“Maybe,” Bilbo says, “for ten minutes, until I fall asleep. And then I’ll roll out like a starfish and punch you in my sleep.”

“Ah domestic bliss,” Thorin sighs. “I’ll be up soon.”

Bilbo hears him sigh as he leaves the kitchen and mutter something about colour schemes.

**

“It’s not that I don’t think he’d tell me if there’s something wrong,” Bilbo tells Frerin over the phone. “It’s just I think there’s something wrong and he won’t tell me. Do you get me?”

“I feel like you said one thing,” Frerin begins, “and then the exact same thing backwards.”

“Come on,” Bilbo moans, wedging the pone between his shoulder and ear so he can refill his coffee, “this is serious.”

“So is Thorin.”

Bilbo’s still confused. “Which means what exactly?” he demands.

“It means that Thorin takes things _way_ too seriously. He’s probably just worrying about the heaters at work or something.”

“You think?”

“You _know_ him. Tell me that I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong. He does get worked up about silly things. But what if it’s not like that this time?”

“What do you think he’s worried about, then?” Frerin inquires.

Bilbo has several ideas, all stemming from his being too self-conscious. _He doesn’t like me anymore, he’s found someone else, et cetera._

He thinks they all sound stupid though.

“I don’t know,” he tells Frerin. “I’m just concerned.”

“So talk to him. Ask him what’s wrong.”

“I tried that, remember? It’s the first thing I told you about when you picked up the phone.” The front door slams. “I have to go, Frerin, Thorin’s back with Fili and Kili.”

“Tell ‘em I said hi, and Bilbo?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t freak out. Thorin isn’t the only one who’s prone to getting worked up about nothing.”

Bilbo huffs. “Yeah,” he says now. “See you.”

He’s greeted by a chorus of ‘ _we’re back_ ’s and Kili jumping on the sofa with his sneakers still on.

Thorin’s still got that look on his face, but Bilbo doesn’t say anything this time. Just kisses him hello and goes to tell Kili to get off the damn sofa.

**

“He said what?” Ori demands, sitting up in bed now.

“That’s what I said,” Dwalin replies. “Newlywed smugness! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It’s better than the conversation I had with Nori.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, not really a conversation,” Ori goes on, “more a series of texts.” He reaches over to the bedside table and grabs his phone. “ **Nori** : _on average how many times a day do you think a regular couple has sex?_ **Me** : _why are you asking me? Surely you have some sort of study done about it in your office?_ **Nori** : _just give me a number of what you’d expect from a normal couple._ **Me** : _a normal couple that’s been together for a while? I guess once or twice a day, if they see each other every day?_ **Nori** : _so you’d say that seven times a day almost every day is definitely not normal?_ **Me** : _of course not!_ **Nori** : _what about you and Dwalin?_ **Me** : _what about me and Dwalin?_ **Nori** : _how many times a day?_ **Me** : _why would you even ask that?_ **Nori** : _it’s important- I need an average to compare to._ **Me** : _we just got married our average number is hardly going to be... well, average, is it?_ **Nori** -”

“I think I see where this is going,” Dwalin interrupts.

Ori drops the phone in his lap. “He then proceeded to weasel out of me not only details about my own sex life but Bilbo’s as well for this cache of sex-information he’s looking for.”

Dwalin's no longer listening. “You know details about Bilbo’s sex life?”

“Duh,” he answers, “we’re best friends. You and Thorin don’t talk about your sex lives?”

Dwalin shakes his head. “We have a rule.”

“A rule?” Ori repeats.

“Yeah, a rule: not unless absolutely necessary.”

Ori makes a little humming noise. “So if you needed advice on sex you wouldn’t go to Thorin?”

Dwalin raised an eyebrow at him. “You think _I’d_ need sex advice?”

“A little smug there, aren’t you?”

“Normal-smug or newlywed-smug?” Dwalin wonders.

“Normal-smug,” Ori decides. “Definitely normal-smug.”

**

“Two times a day!” Bofur scoffs. “Normal people have sex more than two times a day.”

“That’s what Ori thinks is normal.”

“Yes well Ori doesn’t have a very good sense of normal, then.”

“Just admit it,” Nori tells him, “we have a ridiculous amount of sex-”

“What are we talking about?” Bilbo asks, coming in with Kili on his back.

“Nothing,” Nori says politely. “Just rehashing an old conversation that we will continue later,” he gives Bofur a pointed look. He lets Kili grab at his hair. “Why don’t we give Bilbo a break from that, eh?” he suggests, picking Kili up. “You can help me check on dinner.”

Kili brokers no arguments, although Bilbo has no clue as to whether it's he wants to go and check dinner or because he didn’t actually lip-read what Nori was saying.

“Can I ask a question?” Bilbo asks Bofur, leaning against the wall.

“Sure,” Bofur replies.

“Do you think Thorin’s been acting weird?”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know- just different. Odd. You’ve always been better at picking out that sort of thing than I have.”

Bofur doesn’t say that it’s because his old job sort of required that kind of sense about people. Instead he looks over to where Thorin is and thinks about it. “He seems maybe a little quiet, like he’s thinking about something.” He turns to Bilbo, who’s looking quite anxious. “Is something wrong?”

“He keeps telling me everything’s fine. I just... I’m a worrier, Bofur. You know I am.”

“That you are,” Bofur agrees. “But I wouldn’t worry: he still looks at you like you hung the god damned moon or something.”

“I never said it was our relationship I was worried about,” Bilbo tells him, but he’s gone red in the face from Bofur’s comment.

“You didn’t have to,” he replies. “Now come on, let’s go grab a seat at the table.”

It was well after Bilbo and the others had all gone home and he was helping Nori wash the plates and cutlery that he brought the subject up.

“Apparently Thorin’s been actin’ squirrelly,” he begins.

“So?” Nori wonders.

Bofur shrugs. “You want to get all therapist and analyse him?”

“Thorin’s going to propose.”

He blinks at Nori. “That was quick,” he remarks.

Nori snorts. “That’s because I didn’t go ‘all therapist’ as you love to call it.”

“How did you find out, then?” Bofur inquires, vigorously washing one of the cups.

“Ori told me,” he answers simply.

“And who told Ori?”

“Dwalin, of course.”

“Oh. Alright then." He's quiet for a beat before he speaks again. "So... I guess we’re not sharing this information with Bilbo, then?”

Nori doesn’t look away from the plate he’s drying. “That would be a no.”

“I’m not very good at lyin’ to him,” he declares, still scrubbing the same spot on the cup.

Nori takes it off of him. “I think that’s clean enough.”

“What do I do?”

“Just avoid him until Thorin asks,” Nori suggests.

Bofur lets out a laugh. “That could take forever! You know what Thorin’s like.”

Nori’s mouth twists as he thinks. “You’re right- it could take forever.” He pauses. “If I bring up the sex thing again is it likely you won’t sleep with me tonight?”

“Very likely,” Bofur informs him. “And if you bring it up again and I’ll kick you out of the bed for two weeks.”

“Point taken,” Nori says, but he’s grinning.

**

Bilbo’s at work, tying to discern a wobbly written short story for marking when he gets the message: _house may be haunted, send help._

He stares at it for a whole three minutes before sighing and dialling.

“Are you on your way?” is all Dori demands when he picks up.

“I’m in the middle of work. Why do you think your house is haunted?”

“I watched that movie last night.”

Bilbo sighs, trying to remember his patience. “Which movie?”

“The ghost one.”

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down, you know,” Bilbo informs him.

“The one with the ghosts in it- you know which one I mean. Anyway, I watched it and now I’m certain my house is haunted.”

“Really?” Bilbo asks flatly.

“It has all the typical signs of a haunted house!” Dori defends. “You have to help me perform an exorcism or a cleansing or something.”

“And why on God’s green Earth would I be at all familiar with performing exorcisms?”

He can almost hear Dori shrug on the other line. “Out of everyone you seemed the most logical option.”

“Nothing about this conversation is logical,” Bilbo informs Dori. “I can’t help you.” He’s met with silence on the other line, and can only stand it for a few moments before he sighs loudly. “I’ll come over after work.”

“Wonderful!” Dori declares, delighted. “I’ll make sure the kettle’s on.”

“Brilliant,” Bilbo replies, voice monotonous. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He hangs up and sighs, sending a message to Thorin that he’ll be home late tonight.

He ends up spending the rest of his lunch break Googling how to perform an exorcism. He doesn’t find out much, though, because all the information is conflicting and he’s not really sure where to even get things like holy water. So he just heads over to Dori’s house after school and does what he always does when Fili and Kili think there’s a monster in their room. He checks every cupboard, looks under every bed and sofa, and finds nothing at all.

“If you’re so paranoid about it why don’t you film your house throughout the night?” he suggests after two hours of ‘ghost-hunting’. He sets his tea down on the table and shifts in his chair. Dori refills both their cups. “See if anything weird happens.”

Dori starts to nod, setting the pot back down. “That might be a good idea,” he agrees. “That way I’ll have proof and Nori won’t laugh at me again.”

Bilbo just snorts.

**

Thorin’s waiting for him when he gets home. Not that it’s terribly late, mind you, but the boys have already been put to bed.

Bilbo takes his jacket off and hangs it on the coat rack before throwing his bag on the sofa and undoing his tie.

“I made dinner,” Thorin says casually from the other side of the room.

Bilbo stops what he’s doing and turns to look at him. “You made dinner?” he repeats, trying to think of ways to tell if someone's been replaced with a pod person.

“Yes,” Thorin looks uncomfortable. “I thought you might like not having to do it yourself-”

“Oh, please don’t do the puppy-eye thing,” Bilbo begs him, kicking off his shoes. Thorin is _always_ doing the puppy-eye thing. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just when you cook dinner you tend to... blow things up. I thought we agreed you wouldn't do it again.”

“The kitchen is fully intact, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” He leads Bilbo to the dining room table now, sitting him down.

“What did you make me?” Bilbo wonders, watching him head into the kitchen.

Thorin answers that by bringing out a plate and setting it in front of him.

“Steak?” Bilbo demands, absolutely delighted. “You actually _cooked_ this?”

“Yes,” Thorin says. “Admittedly, it took me three goes. But yes.”

Bilbo frowns suddenly. “Have you done something wrong?”

“Wrong?” he wonders. “No, not at all.”

“Just that you seem to be buttering me up for something.”

“I only thought you’d enjoy a nice meal someone else made for you, is all.” Thorin looks far too innocent, but Bilbo lets it drop for now. He’s just going to concentrate on enjoying this steak.

Honestly he'd planned on having microwave noodles for dinner so this is a real step up. “Did you eat already?” he asks, digging in. “Did you want some of mine?”

“Just eat,” Thorin tells him. “I’m fine.”

So Bilbo does what he’s asked and practically inhales the meal. If he weren’t so good at resisting temptation he might have even licked the plate clean when he finished. It's been a long day, okay? He needs the sustenance. 

“Good?” Thorin queries once Bilbo’s done.

“ _So_ good,” he answers, putting a hand to his stomach. “But I’m still suspicious, you know.”

“I assure you I have no opportunistic-ulterior-motives involved in this.”

“What about ulterior motives in general?” Bilbo asks.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it an _ulterior motive_...” Thorin begins.

“What would you call it, then?”

“Uh... preparing you?” he sort of squints as he says it, like he’s seeing if Bilbo will react favourably to that particular wording.

Bilbo sighs. “Did you break something?” he wonders.

“No.”

“Did you forget something important?”

“No.”

“Are you going to be arrested?”

“No.”

“Have you done anything that will make me mad?”

Thorin seems to think about it for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Then why do I get the feeling I’m being prepped for bad news?”

“It’s not bad news,” he replies with an eye-roll.

Bilbo looks at him suspiciously. “It isn’t?”

“I never said that,” Thorin points out. “It’s just... I had a question, that’s all.”

“About colour schemes?”

Thorin glances up at him, surprised. “What?”

“I heard you mutter something about it the other day,” Bilbo says with a shrug. “Are you planning on redecorating the house? Is that it?”

“No. Is there something wrong with the house?” Thorin looks about the kitchen, as if trying to pick out any discernable flaws.

“No, no,” Bilbo waves it off. “So you _are_ buttering me up for something, though?”

Thorin pulls a face. “You make it sound so _dirty_.”

“If you have to butter someone up for anything it’s automatically going to be dirty. What’s this question, then? Come on,” he gestures at Thorin, “out with it.”

Thorin shifts, looking uncomfortable again. “Right... Bilbo,” he begins.

“Yes?”

“I want you to-”

“Bilbo’s home!” Fili and Kili suddenly barrel into the room, interrupting at the perfect moment as always.

Thorin puts his head in his hands. “Oh for Christs sake,” he utters.

“It’s fine,” Bilbo tells him letting Kili climb onto his lap. “We can talk about it later.”

Fili moves over to Thorin and looks at him curiously. “Are you okay?” he wonders, leaning against his legs. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“It’s nothing,” Thorin says. “Just extending my embarrassment, is all.”

Bilbo is about to say something but Kili tugs at his shirt to get his attention now. _Why were you late?_ he wants to know.

 _Dori needed a bit of help, is all_. Bilbo signs back. _He needed me to check in his closet for monsters._

Thorin raises an eyebrow at him, and Bilbo just shrugs. “It’s a long story.”

“Uncle Thorin,” Fili says now, having fished something out of Thorin’s pocket while they were speaking, “what’s this?” he holds it up to inspect it.

Thorin hastily attempts to snatch it out of Fili’s hands, but Fili pulls back out of his reach. “Nothing!” Thorin insists.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo asks.

Thorin has gone so red in the face that under any other circumstances Bilbo would find it hilarious. “It might be,” he admits. “It depends on your reaction.”

“My reaction?” he repeats.

“If you like it then it is what you think it is but if you don’t like it I can make up a lie and say it’s something else entirely to save us both the embarrassment.”

“What do you mean?” Fili goes to open the little box now, but Bilbo takes it out of his hands gently, keeping his composure. “Fili, why don’t you take your brother back upstairs?”

“Oh, but-”

“Come on now,” he tells them both, picking Kili up off his lap and setting him on the ground, “time for bed.”

Kili signs complaints while Fili whines, but Bilbo just sends them both upstairs, leaving Thorin alone for a moment. Once the boys are upstairs Bilbo goes back into the kitchen.

Thorin is cringing. “In my defence,” he begins, “it was much more romantic when I planned it in my head.”

Bilbo bites his lip to stop himself from laughing and turns the box in his hands. “This _is_ what I think it is, isn’t it?” he holds it up.

Thorin seems to be refusing to meet his eyes. “Yes, and if you’d prefer you can just give it back to me and we can pretend this never happened.”

“And if I don’t?” he wonders. “If I’d... prefer that you take it back and get on one knee?”

Thorin looks up at him. “You wouldn’t mind if I got on one knee?”

“I love you on your knees,” Bilbo teases him. “You should know that by now.”

“You know what I mean,” Thorin reaches out and grabs the box as he speaks. “I know you’ve never really been interested in that old-fashioned stuff.”

Bilbo can’t help but grin. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he tells him.

Thorin still can’t meet his eyes. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

Bilbo crowds into Thorin’s space, because he still won’t look at him. “I knew that when I met you,” he explains. “Neither of us seem to be any good at being romantic, Thorin. And when we try to be romantic things don’t exactly go well; you remember our one year anniversary.”

“Can we not bring that up?” he beseeches. “I’m still emotionally recovering from the embarrassment.”

Bilbo laughs, and they fall into silence for a moment or two.

Eventually Thorin clears his throat, and slips off the chair onto one knee. “Bilbo,” he begins, still not meeting his eyes. “Will you- ah.” he cuts off with a small noise.

“What?” Bilbo asks. “What is it?”

“I think I’ve put my back out,” Thorin admits, putting a hand on the chair to prop himself up.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo gets onto his knees as well and helps Thorin move so he can sit down instead of kneel. “Is that a bit better?”

“A bit,” Thorin agrees. “The cold always messes with my back.”

“You could have told me it was jarring,” Bilbo tells him, reaching around and rubbing soothing circles into Thorin’s lower back. “I would have put that heat rub onto it if you needed me to.”

Thorin waves it off. “It’s nothing.” He huffs a laugh then, and fiddles with the box in his hands. “Here,” he offers it to Bilbo. “You open it.”

Bilbo sits back a little, moving out of Thorin’s personal space, and takes it from him. “Was it very expensive?” he wonders, not sure if he wants to know or not.

Thorin seems to be thinking the same thing. “Do you actually want an answer to that or should I just hedge around the question?”

Instead of replying Bilbo just opens the little box to inspect the ring; it’s simple, sturdy looking, and silver (because Bilbo just _hates_ gold) with neat little engravings all around it. “It’s perfect,” Bilbo replies. “You don’t have to tell me how much it cost you.”

“Good,” Thorin says, “because it was a small fortune and if you knew how much you’d slap me up the back of the head for spending so much money on you.”

Bilbo smacks his shoulder playfully.

“So...” Thorin looks unsure still, “is that a yes?”

“That depends on the question,” Bilbo prods. “You still haven’t _actually_ asked me.”

“For goodness sake Bilbo, will you marry me? I’ve been panicking about the whole thing for weeks now and I’d rather you just put me out of my misery-”

Bilbo gives him a quick kiss on the lips to quieten him. “Did you really think I’d say no?” he inquires.

Thorin shrugs, embarrassed still. “I’d hate to assume and then seem self-assured.”

“Well, then to put you out of your misery: yes. I will marry you.”

Thorin still looks oddly relieved even though he knew the answer was going to be yes because really, how could Bilbo say no?

**

“Seven times a day!” Bilbo guffaws. “Bofur that _is_ a ridiculous amount of sex.”

“It isn’t!” Bofur insists. “Nothin’ about Nori and I is ridiculous.”

“Everything about you and Nori is ridiculous, I think you’ll find,” Bilbo returns. “You have ridiculous arguments-”

“Debates,” corrects Bofur. "Not arguments."

“Debates,” Bilbo allows. “You spend a ridiculous amount of time together, you know each other ridiculously well _and_ you have a ridiculous amount of sex. That’s just how your relationship works. Ridiculous isn’t a _bad thing_ , Bofur. Not in your case, anyway.”

Bofur groans a little. “Why can’t we be the normal couple?”

“Unfortunately within our circle of friends the one normal couple is not you and Nori.”

“Well it’s not you and Thorin, either.”

“Thorin and I are perfectly normal, thank you very much. And who else is it going to be?” he demands. “Ori and Dwalin? They’re the least normal of us all. And don’t say Frerin and Ettie, they don’t count.”

“Why not?” Bofur asks. “They’re completely normal: boringly so.”

“We’ve only seen them together once, of course it doesn’t count.”

Nori pokes his head into the kitchen now. “Are you two going to argue all night or are you going to finally bring the drinks out and come join the rest of us?”

“Yes, yes,” Bilbo waves him off dismissively.

“I’m just saying,” Nori goes on. “It is _your_ engagement party, Bilbo. You should at least be out there with Thorin, helping him deal with his annoying cousins like a good fiancé.”

“I heard that!” comes Dain’s reply from the other room.

Bilbo turns to Bofur. “Is it too late to try and make my escape?”

“Far too late,” Thorin declares, coming into the kitchen. “Come on, it’s your turn to deal with the others being weirdly invasive. I’ve had enough of it for one night.”

“Pity,” Bilbo sighs, leaning against Thorin’s side.

“Well, you’re the one who said yes to me,” Thorin reminds him, slipping an arm around his waist. “You’re stuck with us now,” and it’s declared with a great amount of relish that Bilbo can’t help but grin back at him.

“Come on, then,” he tells Thorin. “Let’s go mingle.”

“And yes,” Thorin calls over his shoulder to Bofur as they leave the room. “Seven is a ridiculous amount.”

Bilbo bursts into laughter as Bofur grouses after them.

“Told you!” Nori declares, looking proud.

 

 


End file.
